Stabat Mater Dolorosa
by Oliver Grey
Summary: After the 2004 movie. I've been listening to Pergolesi's SM and this is the result. The M is for brutality and philosophy. And something else.
1. Chapter 1

I've been hearing the rumors in the past 5 or 6 days. The whole opera was talking of this by now. Those people are annoyingly superstitious to believe of such nonsense. I am the only one who have ever wandered through all of the tunnels under the Opera house, and never there was more than pests, daring lads or drunks in the damp underground maze. The idea of ghosts was itching my mind a lot when I was younger but after years of void silence and blank blackness before my eyes I became convinced spirits didn't exist. Even the idea of haunting souls proved wrong, for I should be followed by a dozen till now. Nothing really. I kill them, they die and that's it. Annoying and troublesome but harmless otherwise.

By the end of the week every person with an eye or two was telling of their experience with the vision. The stories grew from controversial to ridiculous in a course of hours, depending on the skill of the narrator. The most fun it was when two groups would collide, each "witness" describing the woman differently. A brunette or a blonde? Tall or short? Young or elderly? There was appearance for every taste but one detail remained the same. The woman was carrying a baby, pressed to her bosom.

After hearing enough of these, I decided to search for the source of this miracle and to eliminate it. You may think I was jealous of their averted attention but you will be wrong. During the last year I heard plenty of mediocre performances, the lack of decent singers so obvious that I didn't even want to complain. Recently, however, the opera managed to employ several voices who were listenable and the last performance went much better. And now, instead of rehearsing the next opera they were losing time indulging in these ignorant believes. One of them went as far as to assume, it was a sign from heaven, that the Opera Ghost was gone for good. No comment.

According to the rumors, the woman was mostly seen outside of the theater not far from one of the rear entrances. So I climbed the roof of the most convenient house with a binoculars and began my night watch. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done but I needed to get rid of the nuisance. I waited there the whole night, looking carefully at every place and every creature coming into sight. Nobody resembling the target appeared.

I did the same on the following night, and on the night after. At that point, I knew someone was making that up, and I had fallen for it like a fool. After 3 sleepless nights I was ready to kill the joker without much explanation. Tired and disgruntled, I headed home when a certain turn of the tunnel reminded me of something, changing my destination. Quite irritated, I've almost forgotten it was time to change the candle.

Listening carefully, I entered the chapel. Strangely, the candle was only half burnt but it stood there unlit and apparently cold. There were not many possible explanations – as there was no flow in and out of the chamber, it was a man, who had extinguished its light.

Suddenly, tiredness vanished and I was angry. More than angry, I've had enough of this cast and the management. It was a candle. They had to put their hands everywhere, to touch everything. To destroy the tiny peace I have managed to build between myself and true insanity. The little light was an essential part of my magical shield and seeing it gone fueled my rage to unbelievable heights. I've been silent long enough.

But first thing, first. I took a new stick and replaced the old, lighting it up with my own matches. It was a ritual of giving light, of giving life. A quintessence of what I've done for the girl since the very first time we've met in the chapel. At the end she grew bored and abandoned my light, replacing it with the polished shine of high society. The earning she took with herself. For months I simply forgot about light, erasing all thoughts of the above from my mind. Submerged in silence, I saw only her face in the dark. It was as simple as this.

When I reentered the world of living, the news were she was very ill. She was confined to bed for weeks and things were turning for the worst. Then, I wished I could hate her, because I discovered pain even below the lowest depths of Hell. Losing her to that man came second to the fear of losing her to death. Her light was fading and all I could do was wait and remember. It came back to me one day that she was often lighting up a candle for her father. I've seen so many times how this silly act would brighten her mood. Through the years, its healing ability remained a mystery to me, but then I decided to give it a try. I brought and lit the candle myself. At first, there was nothing. In the dead of the night I was not in a hurry so I leaned against the wall looking at the small, still flame. Slowly, I began to imagine that little flame flying to her, and joining her own light in the fight against the sickness. A soldier, armed with my unending adoration.

Night after night I was coming to the chapel, adding candle after candle until there was an army ready to protect and strengthen my love. Every night I was sending them to her with my best wishes and the warmth of my heart. Nobody dared to enter the chapel once the candles began to appear seemingly from nowhere. I was adding new and replacing the melted sticks covering the ground of the chamber.

Nearly two months she crept between life and death, weak and unstable, until one day a word came she was getting better.

I don't know if my candles and my prayers helped, but I kept one lit even after she was completely cured. Spying on the little Giry had never before been that productive. Her excited shouts could be heard through half of the opera house. And for once, I was in tune with the staff when they heard of the Viscountess being much better.

Well, my memories and the now burning candle had managed to settle my anger and no more I wanted to pursue and punish the one who'd taken the liberty to touch my light. I wasn't surprised though for recently keeping the fury at decent levels was tiring me immensely. Perhaps, I am growing older. With a slow, deep exhale I left the chapel.

xxx

It took several days and two more half burnt candles for my hate to reappear with its former passion. Long ago I wanted to know why. Now not even a question dared to cross my mind when in such a mood. They will learn to fear the ghost once again. First him, then the others. And this time there will be no notes, no threats, no warnings. They want to extinct my light, but I am perfectly capable of destroying theirs.

Hidden behind the walls of the chapel I prepared to kill my number 14. My hands were bare for I wanted to feel the pulse slowing down and going mute forever. I've never killed like that before, but apparently it was time for a change. My thoughts were overpowered by the wild fury which stretched my lips, to bare the teeth, as I let a low growl through. There were steps coming closer.

A boy descended the stairs and I was ready to attack when he took something out of his pocket. Standing still, I watched him bent a long thin candle, warping the halves with one another. At the end there was a much shorter but stronger candle with two wicks instead of one. He used mine to lit his, put it on the stand and watched it calmly for several minutes. It was a beautiful sight, that strange candle.

He left, and without a thought I entered the room to examine his creation. Such a simple and wonderful idea. And he took light from my own. Looking back at its flame I remembered why I was here now. I stepped towards the hidden door when a rustling of clothes came from behind. Someone just took me by surprise and I could already see, there were going to be two dead bodies tonight.

I focused and turned to meet the dead man.

I froze mid step and my hands fell to my sides.

The vision was standing right in front of me and for a moment I too stood and stared.

It became clear, why she was unfit for describing. Part of her hair was covered with something white and her entire body was dirty as Hell. Two vertical lines beneath the eyes were the only hints of how white her skin actually was. The rag around the baby was no better and the smell coming from the woman was unbelievable.

God forgive me, I didn't recognize her.

To me she was the Holy mother with her son but somehow that was the moment of his birth and his death at the same time. Her face held the mark of long and deep sorrow, something I've seen only on Mary at the crucifixion. She was utterly destroyed.

The woman slid on the ground and slowly extended the child towards me. A desperate hope was burning in her sickly eyes.

I took a step back, frightened.

"Angel?"

One word and only one voice to say it.

Her outstretched hands began to shake with the effort. Her face was pleading for my help and I gave it without hesitation. It can not be her, absolutely not !

I took the child carefully not to disturb the mother, standing on a firm ground again. I had no experience with babies but I knew exactly what to do with this one.

It's been dead for 3 or 4 days now, the little body stinking, the tiny legs black and dangling below the rag. She wanted me to bury him then. She knew who was familiar with death around here. It was really her.

"I beg you, please! Find him … a home. For my child... for Étienne. Have mercy... Angel. Have mercy... have..."

She fainted before me, touching my shoes or not, for I couldn't see clearly. Tears were clouding my sight as I stood there with the dead kid and the human shreds at my feet. I was paralyzed inside and out, only the tears brave enough to continue moving down my face. What had happened to her was coming over me now. I don't have words...

Somebody closed the door to the chapel and reminded me, I was clearly visible here. I took off her scarf, tied the body to her belly, picked her up and vanished behind the wall.

The walk to my home was the loneliest in my life, and I was carrying Hell in my arms. A funeral procession with unknown number of bodies and I as a gravedigger, a priest and a mourned. I let the tears flow and they seemed only appropriate for the occasion. Is everybody that empty at a funeral? My sobs were hollow, there was nothing inside of me. No hate, no pain, no love. Beyond my broken believes of her well-being, stood only death.

I put her in bed, and took the body with me. Walking to the spot which marked the center of the opera house, I lifted a stone plate and uncovered the corner of a rectangular hole, fitted for one person. There was no need to make more room as the resident turned out to be much smaller than expected originally.

I buried the baby in my grave and went back to her, to Christine.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

When her breaths got slower and more even, I retrieved the cloth from her mouth. It was more than risky, to sedate a person so weak, but she was close to death anyway. The moist air of the cavern was the perfect carrier for spreading her stench, far beyond the confines of my dwelling. It was going to attract unwanted attention. Initially, I thought to preserve her dress for further use, but when I began to undo the buttons, it literary fall apart in my hands. Losing my patience, I ripped it off her, together with all those little things, women wear underneath. Her naked body didn't stir anything in me. As far as my dick was concerned, she was nothing but a corpse. I put her clothes in the farthest corner of my home and coming back to her, I removed mine.

Cleaning a nearly dead body down here, proved to be a heavy task. With a large pail of hot water close to me, I sat on a chair and put her on my lap. I soaked the sponge and dragged it gently over her arm. There it was, under the dirt and sweat, her white-transparent skin. Allowing myself a single caress, I continued quickly to wash her body. How long did it take her, to get this amount of mud piled up? The only cleaner spots were the tips of her breasts. Honestly, I didn't think one can get so dirty while being fully dressed like she was. Close to naked and covered in muck – that I knew all about. One of the reasons, I bath as often as I can.

The lightest brush between her legs was going to do for now, because I didn't know how sensitive the place was. I couldn't suppress a longer look there, curious to see what was under the curly hairs, but unable to make myself investigate beyond them. It was my first time being that close to a naked woman and I searched within, to evaluate its impact. I felt nothing.

Looking up, there was only her hair left to wash. I had no idea what the whitish substance was, but I hoped it was soluble in water. I spilled more over it, and soaped my hands up. Going slowly I buried my fingers in, and ordered them to move. Despite her currant state, I noticed how her hair was shorter than before. Some fashion for sure. With nothing to focus my eyes on, they went back to gazing at her body. The small hands had broken nails and few marks. Her legs had tiny veins presented on the surface. The knees looked rough. Lost in my observations, I was brought back by a small sigh coming from her lips. I rinsed her hair with the last available water and proceeded to dry her up. Soon, she was back in my bed, sleeping in a pair of my nightclothes.

I took a long shower myself, since the smell brought back unpleasant memories. As always, the cold water washed the emotions away, cleared my mind enough to leave it capable of coming up with a plan. In case she managed to come back at all, of course. Handling the alternative outcome was pretty obvious, anyway.

Going through the known facts, I realized it was too early to make any assumptions. I knew she was out of care for at least several months. She was homeless and deprived of all basic necessities – food, water, clothing. The baby was a few months old. She had been trying to nurse him till the very end, hence the clean nipples. The Viscount was alive and healthy. From here on, the numerous questions started but above all, I wanted to know if she was mentally ill. Her wide, unblinking glassy eyes, gave me the impression I was dealing with a mad woman in the chapel. To think that I could somehow find a family to raise her baby, she must be mad.

Quite sure she was still asleep, I entered the bedroom naked, to pick clean clothes, roundly rubbing my hair with a small towel. Warm underpants were mandatory now, unless I wanted to leak pee on my trousers for the the next several days. The rest of my attire was of no importance and I was instantly ready and starting to warm up, the blood finding its way into my frozen limbs again.

At the door, I looked back and noticed that her face was not as pale as before, a pink shade covering her cheeks. Was she going feverish now? I could not check, for my hands were still too cold to make any adequate assessment. I left, and went to the organ, taking a seat and letting its peace, calm my racing thoughts. I began to play quietly, slowly at first, increasing the speed until my fingers heated up sufficiently. Once engulfed in the music, it was hard to go back. I didn't want to return to where I had to make decisions. Outside the confinements of time, I was free to abandon all tiring connections and only listen, to the narrative of the instrument. Its rich timbre made every tone to reverberate in my chest, to uncover the infinite harmonics responsible for its beauty. Pure, perfectly structured layers of sounds, creating the foundations of a new world, evenly distant from heaven and hell, where no concepts of good and evil existed.

xxx

According to the watch, nearly two hours had past, while drawing the complex picture of my dream. Was it possible to play until you drop dead of exhaustion? I think it is, but not with the complication in a form of a woman, I was presently confronted with. It was getting harder to restrain my brain from making conclusions out of practically nothing. How many times it had mislead me before? When Christine was concerned, too many.

Back in the bedroom, I was met with a pair of sad, brown eyes. Like a mouse, she was buried deep under the covers, only her eyes visible, following my movement around the bed. I took a peach can from the coffer, opened it and placed the contents in a bowl, careful to let her see it all. I presented the food to her, but the only reaction was her moving her gaze from the bowl back to my face. Maybe she was too weak. I filled the spoon and brought it to her mouth. She opened barely, as if unsure if that was the correct response. Chewing slowly, Christine closed her eyes and my body relaxed a little. Was I really that much afraid to start this conversation? No, but it would only bring more complications and possibilities I was unable to predict.

Her eyes reappeared, and I filled a second spoon. Sitting in complete silence, it took long but finally she refused to eat more, by pulling her face back under the blankets. I ate what was left, and began to raise, when a quick inhale from her side caused me to remain in my place. She was going to ask of her baby.

"How... how many people have you killed?"

I've already opened my mouth to start spilling a story, when the meaning of her question finally registered in my mind. At least I didn't need to lie, yet.

"13."

She didn't expect it to be a double digit number. Her eyes widen and her breath quicken for a moment. Looking away from me, Christine thought for several minutes before coming up with another question. Her voice was quiet but steady.

"What does it feel like? Killing."

I stood up and out of the room, out of my home. There is a particular place where they are easy to be found and caught. I chose a particularly huge one and carried it back to the bedroom, pausing briefly to get the nearest knife.

Christine recoiled from me, as soon as she recognized the big rat lying alive in my hand. Both creatures were trembling from fear, unnecessary, if my predictions were correct. I handed her the knife.

"Why don't you see for yourself? See the spine here? Pierce it once, behind the head. Don't worry, Christine, I'll keep it still."

I extended the pest towards her and she recoiled further letting the knife fall from her hand.

"What is the problem? It isn't going to bite you."

Her eyes were moving between me and the petrified animal and she was getting more and more upset.

"I can't. It... I can't kill without a reason."

I lowered my hand to the blankets. Feeling the surface under its tiny feet, the rat suddenly became very alive, doing its best to escape my grasp. The woman screamed and tried to get out of the bed.

Grasping her ankle I made her escape impossible, thus leaving her with only one way to protect herself. Christine launched for the knife. The rat was fighting fearlessly, giving the impression that it had a real chance to win. Her eyes were focused on my hand, large and unblinking, the weapon clutched desperately in her hands.

"But if I let it go now, you'll be more than happy to destroy it."

"I... I... it frightens me! No! Don't! Please,... it will bite..."

She was screaming and hyperventilating and soon she would be back to her unconscious state. I put the rat away and headed for the exit. A step before it, her voice, an octave above normal, asked excitedly.

"Aren't you going to do it?"

I turned and looked very seriously at her.

"I don't kill out of mere fear, Christine. I've killed only to protect myself."

She looked at me tiredly and tried to convince me once again.

"The rat was going to bite me. I had a reason to be afraid."

"No. It was going to run away as quickly and as far as possible. You were not the only one frightened here. Fear, clouds the mind, and leaves it blind to the truth. Fear is what makes one "kill without a thought". I have never killed out of fear in my life."

Did she recognize her own words? I didn't know. I turned to go when she stopped me one more time.

"You are not going to kill it then?"

"What for? There are thousands of rats in the catacombs and killing one won't change the situation much. Besides, they keep most of the people away from here, and I don't want to be ungrateful. "

I hurried back to the spot and released the little animal. As said, it disappeared in less than a second, while I stood, shaking my head. I couldn't see where that conversation was heading, or what had brought the subject up. Was that really our first talk after two and a half years? About killing rats? What about the child? Was she sure I had killed the Viscount's offspring on the spot? Was she too afraid to ask? God! Can I become more confused than that?

Thankfully she was still in the bed, and I walked past her to clean my hands. Rats are not my favorite toys.

She didn't move when I sat back on the bed. Her cheeks were pinkish again and I put my palm on her forehead to measure her temperature. Again she didn't move.

"You look good."

"You, don't. Do you want to eat anything else? I have meat cans and plum and some vegetables."

"No, thank you. What are you doing?"

She was looking up at my hand, still lying on her forehead. She wasn't hot and I pulled back.

"Christine,..."

"Can I have my dress, please?"

So she was simply blushing? Well, that was a good sign.

"You can't go anywhere for several days, at least. You must recover, first."

"But where is it? And the other things? You... you changed me, don't you? And you washed me? You must know where it is."

"It's gone. I will find you another one soon but until..."

"No! Give me my dress!"

She was close to tears and her heavy breathing returned. I began calmly again.

"It fell apart, Christine, really. I will find a better one I promise you."

She finally understood, but her bush deepened as she began to speak again.

"But I need to go to the toilet, now."

Oh God, I've completely forgotten about this. The nightclothes I put her in, were in fact a one piece suit. She would need to undress completely, in order to take a pee. At least, there was a simple solution to that.

I came upon a winter shirt, a pair of trousers, underpants and socks and tossed them on the bed, before leaving her alone to change. In a few minutes she called me back and I showed her where and how to tend to her need.

Sitting in the main room, I heard her steps and turned to see if she would need anything else. Coming down the stairs, her hands bracing her lightly dressed body, she gave me a shy smile, the light of hope visible in her eyes. She covered her mouth before speaking.

"Where is my child, Angel? I want to hold him, if you please."

I brought a chair and put it in front of mine, for the story I was going to tell was a long one. Christine took her seat, ready to believe in every lie I was going to instill in her, as always. It was the truth, she had tremendous hardship to accept.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

I kept my silence one last time while fetching a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Christine clutched the corners, her hands twisting the fabric as she never dropped her gaze from me, taking my place across her, worry replacing the hope on her face. She looked very sick then.

"How much do you remember from the moment we met, yesterday?"

"Everything! My baby..."

"You wanted me to find him a home, remember? Good people to care for him. So I did."

She was looking straight at me and I endured that gaze, its length and heaviness. The moment was crucial, for it was going to determine the future course of my actions. Christine was tensed for several minutes, moving her eyes between mine, her mouth slightly opened as if to say something she had already forgotten.

"He was very cold, Christine and needed immediate care. I am foreign to children so I took him to the house of a pair, I had observations of. They are elderly but not too old. They have no children. I put the baby at the door with some money, knocked and hid. The man opened and took him inside."

I put intentionally all that details in, because they would root deeply in her mind and give her something to think over, rather than ask questions all the time. The tale was sinking already, I could see that clearly on her face. She lowered her head, exhausted from her efforts and studied the floor between our chairs. For a moment I wondered, what would I do if she decided she wanted him back. Christine sighed, and said softly without lifting her head.

"My little sweet love. I thought I was dieing. The last days were a nightmare,... the worst nightmare in my life. No food ... little water … I was certain death was coming for me. And for my baby boy. My breasts went dry. Poor Étienne was so hungry he wasn't crying anymore, didn't have any strength. I was so thankful that he was sleeping. I was crying often, with no tears and he was sleeping. God was merciful, Angel. From the moment he was born he was always crying with me. Every time I was sad he was wasting his sweet tears for … for his pitiful mother."

Her voice was lacking any color, the saddest smile only when her child was mentioned. She suddenly looked up and stood from the chair.

"They threw him away, didn't they. They took your money and threw my baby out on the street. I know it! He needs me. He..."

She got off balance and I had only enough time to slow her falling on the ground. Apparently, we were going to continue this in the bedroom. Christine didn't faint but her body was loose, while I was carrying her up the stairs. She was trying to talk but only gasps were coming out of her mouth. When I was pulling the covers over her, she managed to sit up for a moment, panic and fear twisting her features.

"Let me go! He needs me! Only I can love him! ... Let go ... please … they will ..."

Holding her shoulders, I lowered her down gradually, while she was mumbling something incoherently.

"He is fine, Christine. Now lie down and listen. "

"How do you know? You don't know that. I love him! I do... I "

Maybe I needed a firmer approach. I frowned deeply and leaned above her face.

"I said, listen!"

Now I frightened the woman enough, to stop her from moving her body and her vocal cords. She was giving me that staring gaze once again.

"I stood there long enough and they didn't throw him out. The man disposed only the rag he was wrapped in. I suppose, the woman was tending to him, cause the man went out and soon returned with something white in a bottle. It was most certainly milk, Christine. Why would he go search for milk, if he wanted to get rid of the child?"

She wasn't convinced, I saw that. Her feverish eyes told me to go and check it up. I continued to improvise.

"Christine. Those people are good. The women in the opera were saying only good things about that lady. I would've never given him to them if I knew otherwise."

The lie was growing bigger and bigger and all I could think of, was the body I'd left in the hole 10 hours ago. It was a crappy lie, and my only chance was Christine's need to believe in it. She was looking at me with her sad wide eyes again, absolutely unpredictable in her current state of mind. She wasn't crying and I wasn't sure if this was good or bad.

"I thought you would take care of him, when I'm gone."

It was my turn to stare. Me, looking after the Viscount's bastard was a deed enough to qualify me for a saint.

"Doesn't he have a father, Christine?"

This managed to upset her again and fear was all I could discern in her. No answer came, and we sat silent for a while. When it became clear, I wasn't going to ask more questions, she calmed down and her eyes began to close. I decided to leave her be, she was too weak to talk more. I stood from the bed and she looked at me gathering all her will to stay awake.

"Can I see him, Angel? And the man and woman? I love him so much. They have to know that I love him. I didn't abandon him. I love him..."

I looked at the sleeping woman for a long while. Whatever happened to her had changed the spirit inside. Her face was sad in her sleep, it wasn't bringing her any peace. All answers were hidden behind a wall of fear and confusion, a wall that wasn't present here before. One talk with her husband would give me all the facts I was missing, but I couldn't leave her yet. Her body wasn't as frail as I thought at first. The mind, on the other hand was weaken by too many emotions. My home was not meant for a sick, sorrow-stricken woman. And I had a strong feeling, the next meeting with her Viscount, would be my last.

The clock said it was 11 in the evening. The best time to get fresh food without being noticed. Christine was quietly asleep and I went quickly to the nearest market – the opera storehouse.

xxx

I heard it only when I neared the bed. Christine was curled in there, completely hidden under the thick layer of blankets. Her voice was a whisper, not intended for anyone's ears.

"... keep him save, mother Mary. Please don't punish him for my sins. He's an innocent child, a little baby. Give him health and happiness, Holy mother, and bless those wonderful people who are his parents now. Bless them with joy and long life. And bless my Étienne. Please, tell him I love him so much. I didn't want any of this to happen. Bless him with hugs and kisses and much love. Please watch over my child..."

Her voice was killed by the quiet sobs, rocking her body. I left the room unnoticed, leaving her to her sorrow. One word, and I would make it a hundred times worse. I chose a piece of fire-wood and brought it with me to the organ bench. My sharpest knife in hand, I began to shape a form without really thinking of it.

She was talking to Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ. Women often do when praying for their children. It is logical because in the whole christian mythology she is the strongest symbol of motherhood. One of my earliest memories is of a small statue standing on a cabinet in our house. I don't remember anything else of that house, but the figure of Mary carrying little Jesus in her hands. I couldn't take my eyes from them. She was holding the boy close to her face and both mother and child were smiling. This composition was driving me mad and after a long time of staring, I was running to get away from it. I couldn't comprehend it. Why was she holding him like this? What did he do to make her so happy? I prayed for him to reveal this secret to me, but he never did. Because he was selfish and wanted all the mothers for himself. He wanted my mother too. He told her I was a monster meant for Hell from my first days in the cradle. They were talking every night and morning and I couldn't hear him but I knew, he was whispering hateful things to my mother. He made her hate me with his perfect smiling face. He took her away and I couldn't even see her anymore. Alone in my cage I was dreaming of making his mother hate him like he made mine.

Now I know, he was only trying to protect her. I know that embraces and kisses are for real children like Christine's baby. Am I not right? Her love was so strong that it prevented her from smelling his stench. To want him desperately to survive and to blind herself for the truth. That is, what real children are blessed with. Then they grow up and live among the others. As they are worthy of friendship and love, they take them for granted like a fish takes the water for granted. Human affection is not suited for demons and monsters.

Looking at my hands, the piece of wood had transformed to a figure of the Holy Mother. I am still fascinated, every time I see her with the young Jesus in her hands, but to me she is not holy. She is a just normal mother with her normal son and nothing more.

I placed the carving next to the bed, for Christine to see it and sat heavily in front of my organ. I didn't want to admit it, but I knew I should be needing sleep soon.

xxx

Few days passed by, without a significant change in her mood. Christine was eating a little and sleeping most of the time. While awake she was either praying to the wooden Mary, or was lying silently in the bed. It looked, she wasn't even thinking of getting out of the room. I used the opportunity to get out and study everything I could about babies – clothes, food, toys. I wanted to make my lies believable.

Without a proper sleep, I lost my desire to talk first. Her whispers of sins and my playing were the only sounds penetrating the silence of the cavern. Twice she came to sit while I was playing and in a quarter I had to carry her sleeping body back to the bed.

During the next meal I brought up the subject with the highest priority.

"Christine, you keep calling me "Angel", but you do remember I am made of flesh and blood, unlike any ghost."

She regarded me before nodding slowly.

"I have certain needs I have to fulfill in order to function properly."

This time she stared at me longer, before looking down and answering quietly.

"You can ask anything of me, Angel. I owe you too much. I would be happy to help you … fulfill your needs."

That was going easier than I thought. If she was really willing to cooperate I could go to sleep immediately after we finished this.

"We have to use the bed in turns, Christine. In time, I will find another solution but … what?"

She lowered the food to the bed and wrapped her hands around her body, looking away from me. 4 hours a night wasn't that much to ask. I lifted her chin to see if she was crying again. She wasn't, but her face spoke shame all over. I repeated firmly.

"What?"

She hid her face in her hands.

"I am so sorry I kept you away from resting. After everything you did for us. I am a burden to you, I know but please give me a few more days and I will leave. I will not bother you more."

"You should consider your words wisely, Christine. Don't give promises you can't keep."

A confused look begged me to explain further.

"Your husband is away and you have nobody to turn to, in Paris. In several days you will be only a bit better and in no shape to travel back home. You will end up here again if you try to leave so soon."

Her eyes had signs of improvement, compared to the day we met. Right now they were only thoughtful, pain and worry gone temporarily. Maybe she could use distractions more.

"You never do."

"Do what?"

"You never promise more than you can do. And you often do more than you promise. Funny, I've never thought about this before."

I have no answer to that. I was considering if I could use a particular distraction to keep her mind away from the baby.

Suddenly I realized she had been studying my face for a while. I gestured towards it.

"You are not afraid of this."

She shook her head with a sad smile.

"How can I be. You owe me nothing, yet here I am keeping you from your bed, eating your food, wearing your clothes. You have every right to throw me in the street but you don't. Without you, we were lost. You can ask anything of me, Angel and you ask for so little. I feel so ashamed."

I looked at her and waited. Those words were supposed to stir something inside of me but they didn't. She was simply stating the truth. And since she was ready to submit to any request from my side, I would be a fool not to take advantage of it. After all, I was still curious about women.

"And if I ask of you to share my bed with me?"

She didn't shy away. On the contrary, Christine looked straight into my eyes and said without a hint of confusion.

"Am I to be bare or clothed?"

I didn't hesitate a second.

"Naked."

"When?"

"After meal."

She nodded shortly and continued with her soup. So did I.

She was changed in more aspects than I thought. The shy, blushing, delicate girl was no more. The woman here was quite aware of a man's desire. Did they have this game every night before bed? Naked or clothed? Surely they did. I imagined them in the midst of their passion and like before, no emotion clouded my vision. My heart was dead after all. She was in for a surprise.

Meanwhile Christine stood up and carried the cutlery outside. Her movements were quickened somehow. She didn't ask me to get out, but I did it anyway. The allusion of me, being a civilized man, was necessary to keep her calm.

"Angel?"

Eager to finally lie down, I extinguished the candle light, undressed and got under the blankets. The bed was no longer cold, a pleasant difference, enough by itself to make me keep her here through out the next winter. Close to sleep I assumed she was waiting for me to do something.

"Lie with your back facing me."

Christine turned and stilled again. I didn't want her to escape, the moment I fell a sleep so I passed my arm under her head and pulled her towards myself with the other one, until we were pressed together. I locked both arms around her and very soon, I suppose, I was sound asleep.

xxx

It was an unfamiliar situation I awoke to, and by habit I continued to pretend while assessing the environment and inhabitants. Well, I was home and I was holding something alive in my arms. It was hot under the blankets. Christine?

She was sleeping, her regular breathing clearly heard in the silence. Opening my eyes I saw hair and below it the round hill of her shoulder. I knew It was white and warm like every other parts of her body. I didn't know its taste. I've often heard women tasted wonderfully and her kiss did taste amazing then, but what about her shoulder? Surely she wouldn't notice if I try.

I lifted my head and looked at her silhouette. Licking my lips I pressed them very carefully to the top of said hill. Cool, silky, soft. She didn't stir so I pressed again to a different spot. Exquisite. Slowly I traced a path to her neck, unhappy to find most of it behind her hair. Then I got back. It was like eating but in a different way. Like drinking too. My dick was however completely unmoved and soon I forgot about it again. Kissing every spot on her left shoulder I found I could not stop and frankly I didn't want to. I had tried to imagine this before but the reality was far beyond any dream. Better in any aspect. Still careful, I dragged my cheek against her skin, then the other. Again and again. Many times. At last, I pressed my nose to her and inhaled deeply the scent and the warmth given freely to the ambient air. Turning to rub the ugly flesh I asked myself how could anyone want more. If I could have her bare shoulder to kiss and to rub my skin to I didn't need more.

It went on indefinitely long. Kissing, rubbing, smelling. Again and again. It was the closest to achieving absolute peace, I'd ever been. I felt warm inside and out. Too good to be true and yet, it was!

I had to stop before Christine could realize what was happening. Just one more kiss. One more, please. I trailed my lips down to her neck when I felt her hand on my face. She was pushing me away.

I tightened my hold and took her hand to stop it. Ready to do everything? The Hell, she was ready. The blissful calmness disappeared, the familiar cold replaced it and everything was back to normal before I managed to protest.

I wanted it back! Now! I hissed into her ear.

"Be still!"

She froze and I went back to kissing her flesh.

It wasn't the same. With shameful desperation I clinged to her, trying to resurrect the heavenly peace from a moment ago. It didn't come. No matter how many times I rubbed my face to her skin, I felt only the rough touch of her hand.

She began to cry and I stopped.

I started to pull back, when I realized her fingers were entwined with mine on her belly and she was drawing me to the opposite direction. Sitting in the bed, I saw her turn towards me, the teary eyes sparkling in the dark.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to. I am sorry, Angel. Did it hurt a lot? I can't do anything right. I didn't want to get into your eye. I'm so sorry."

She curled next to me and continued to cry.

"Why did you do it Christine?"

"I didn't mean to... I didn't."

"Why did you offer something you can't give."

She lifted her face, searching for my eyes?

"I... what do you mean I can't give. I will give anything you want."

"It stands for nothing when you are pushing me away. Can't you see?"

She finally managed to find the outline of my head and her hand came forward badly shaking, palm first.

"I wanted to touch your face, like this."

Her palm landed on my face for a second before she moved it slowly up and down my cheek.

God! It was the same feeling like before! It came so easy this time, it was hardly believable. I inched closer at first, searching for a firmer touch. She pulled me down, next to her with her hand constantly rubbing at my face. Lying on my side, nose pressed to her shoulder, I wrapped her in my arms, feeling her tender caress on my skin. After a while her movement stilled and she was back to sleep, her palm getting heavier where it was lying. I kissed her skin once more, and finally reassured it was really here, I allowed myself to relax content.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Waking up, I realized I've slept much more than intended. Christine wasn't here, but soon I recognized her whisper, coming from the main room. She was praying again, and I could put my head in, she was asking forgiveness for her brazen behavior. Not that we've done much. How strange, she was considering a sin, something that had brought the unnatural peace to my soul. Was it strange really? I am a demon, ergo, everything good for me would be a sin a priory. Here the logic was clearly visible.

Christine came into view. I have begun to expect her sad expression and wasn't surprised to see it again. She looked at me and came to sit on my side of the bed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"About the baby?"

She looked away and smiled a little. One hand went to her breasts.

"No. I miss him badly, Angel, I can't stop thinking of him, worrying for him. At the same time I know he is well and loved by two more people. I used to think only I could love him, but you proved me wrong."

"Why, only you?"

Her gaze returned to me and I saw depth in her eyes, one can rarely see in a 19 years old girl.

"I am his mother, and because only I was taught by you."

My mind made a loop at this puzzling answer. Below the surface, I knew what she was talking about, but only as an instinct. I refused to ask again knowing that sooner or later the truth was going to be clarified by itself. Christine interrupted my train of thoughts.

"Don't get angry, but did you look at Etienne at all, before you left him there?"

Was that a test? I had had no need to look at death's face then, I didn't even remember if I placed him face down or up in the grave. Damn! What was I to say?

"No, I didn't want to see the Viscount in his face. I could have reacted badly."

She nodded with understanding.

"I supposed so. Otherwise, you would have said something."

"Speak plainly, Christine."

She looked at me apologetically and I felt the hairs on my neck erect. I remembered that expression - just before she took my mask on stage. Something bad was coming.

"He... my Etienne... he is not exactly beautiful. No, he is beautiful but not in the normal way. He has my eyes, Angel."

I sat up in the bed and turned her to look at me.

"What are you saying, Christine? That he is ugly? How ugly? Is there something more? God damned, speak woman!"

For some unknown reason the possibility of Christine's baby being deformed, kindled anger inside of me. Shouldn't I feel compassion? Well, if the poor bastard have survived I could have been able to summon pity, but not now. She was afraid to meet my eyes.

"No! Nothing too much. Just his... his ear is uneven and... and he is not handsome. "

A realization passed through me like a spear. Completely forgetting my current state of undress, I jumped out of the bed. I was really furious now.

"He didn't accept him! Your perfect husband, didn't want him near."

That bloody bastard! She was looking helplessly at me trying to excuse him somehow but I didn't allow her a word. I was out of myself.

"Tell me if I am wrong! He wanted to get rid of him and you refused. Right? You wanted to keep the baby, but he couldn't accept a non perfect child as his heir. Tell me, Christine, tell me I am wrong. Tell me!"

I was yelling at her, panting for the blood was flooding my brain, bringing a terrible headache forward. I broke the first object I managed to grasp – a ceramic thing which burst into pieces, colliding with the wall. I turned back to Christine. She was hiding in the darkest corner biting her fists, staring at the madman. As I approached her slowly, she slid to the floor, covering her head. I knelt in front of her.

"Tell me I am wrong."

I put my hands on her and she flinched back, obviously prepared to be hurt. Sudden tiredness broke my resolve to learn the truth and I let her go. What the Hell, was going on.

"Why are you doing this? A? Have I ever touched you with malice, Christine? Why..."

I stood up and went to where my clothes were. Trying to get away from the disturbing news, I rewind our conversation to its beginning. With a long sigh, I came back to her and pulled her up.

"Don't sit on the floor, its cold."

Not as cold as my voice was. She grasped my hand and her face became apologetic again. Feeling sick, I shook my head and abandoned the room.

Back to my music. I wanted to forget about all of this, and to seclude myself into my heaven. I played a melody with one hand while resting the other. Then I switched the hands making little changes to the tune. Playing both, I extended the theme until it sounded complete, then passed it between the left and the right, making them compete with each other. It began to evolve...

...And it died, when I heard feet tapping closer to me. I couldn't focus enough to cut myself from her presence. Strange. I turned and she was just behind me.

Christine was solemn but calm. Relying on my tiredness I decided to finish the topic.

"I wasn't wrong."

She nodded silently again. Ever since she came here, Christine was short on words and I had the growing feeling I was the only one talking in the cave. Now she was standing before me, like a guilty child. Guilty of what, exactly?

"What happened?"

"He wanted to put my child to an orphanage. I didn't agree and he threw us on the streets. The last time I saw him, he was shouting and breaking pieces and then he slapped me in the face."

"And you thought I was going to do the same?"

"He had never hit me before. Never. Before... he loved me. One day it was simply over. He promised to be with me in sickness and health but when it became harder he broke those promises."

"When."

"When?"

"When did he make you leave?"

"It was on the second of July."

Two months.

"I came here to search for you."

"What took you so long."

She stood silent for a minute unable to decide how much to tell.

"I had no money. Everything I had, I sold to buy food. It was hot. I sold my shoes, my scarf, the lases on my dress, some buttons. Everything. My hair... I met a wig maker on the road and he took most of my hair. I didn't mind, it was going to grow again someday, but I needed food there and then. He was so hungry, so sad, it was braking my heart. I was singing him to sleep three, four times a day to keep him calm. My poor love. He would smile only when I kissed him on the nose."

Christine was crying again. I sat there brainless, trying to somehow understand all of this. Her beautiful hair.

"Why didn't he – the Viscount – give you money for the journey to Paris."

Christine smiled through her tears.

"He wanted to make me come back and to give my son away. Raoul was hurt. He was convinced I would not survive without him. He was desperate to make me surrender. If there was love maybe I would... He forbid his people to help me in any way. Money... he took my wedding ring from me, before taking me to the street."

She looked at me again and took my hand.

"But Angel, I can't blame him. I tested his good will too many times. He broke his vows but not before I broke mine. I hurt him deeply. I don't hate him, Angel, I only hope he would forgive me one day."

Oh, Christine. If you knew, you wouldn't be so willing to forgive.

Christine squeezed my hand and I looked up at her.

"When do you think I can see those people? And my boy?"

My ability to think was back and just in time. Well, there was some benefit from that talk after all. I made her sit next to me without releasing her hand.

"Christine, your child is protected now because nobody knows his parents. If you contact him, the news will spread, and sooner or later it will reach your husband's ears. Do you really want that to happen?"

She became agitated.

"You think he will try to..."

"You know him the most. Do you think he will harm those people for helping the child?"

"I don't know. He changed so much. Ever since he met father Paul, Raoul wasn't the same. I don't know him anymore."

Who was father Paul? A priest?

"Now think about this. If he knows that you and the baby are separated, will he come and demand you come back to him?"

"Yes, I suppose..."

Her eyes grew instantly terrified.

"He will come, he will... I know it. Angel, what have I done! He will come for you. Raoul... he will try to find you and kill you."

She jumped off the bench with a sudden briskness, I didn't expect from her. Christine run towards what she thought was the exit and entered the lake, looking at the portcullis.

"Open the gate, Angel. I must… Oh God! I hope its not too late. I am sorry, I am so sorry..."

When I didn't respond, she turned back and stopped panting for breath once more. This was becoming the regular outcome of our conversations. She was too emotional for her own good. I, however, had no intention of wetting my feet.

"Come here, Christine, you are going nowhere now."

She brought her hands together pleadingly.

"You don't understand. He will try to kill you this time. Really he will... Just let me go, please let me go!"

I switched to my teacher-ly voice.

"Only one man knows I am still here. The old entrances are all sealed. Nobody can find us if I don't see to it. Now, calm down and get out of the water. "

She blinked a few times before heading back to me.

"You should at least try to suppress your hysteria from time to time, and think more clearly. Do you consider me stupid enough to stay here after an entire crowd discovered my dwelling a couple of years ago? "

She looked ashamed and exhausted, her voice and eyes down. It was over for the moment,bless the holy silence.

"No."

"Well, since I am not stupid, but still reside here, the obvious conclusion is, I have taken measures to ensure my safety. Will you not agree, Christine?"

"Yes, you are right."

"Of course I am! Now, due to your outburst, you will have to spent some time in bed, until your clothes dry sufficiently. Down here you must keep yourself dry, unless you want to get ill."

She nodded and went to the bedroom and after the noises died, I joined her inside. It was time for lunch. While I was preparing something from my cans, she sat quietly deep in her thoughts. I served her and myself and was halfway through the meal, when she finally spoke.

"You are right, Angel, as always. His safety is more valuable than anything for me. I will talk to him in my prayers and will not long for more. It is for the best if those people don't know who the baby is. I will not insist on contacting them again. I will kiss and hug him only in my dreams. But will you bring me news? Every day?"

Here, I met her eyes and was surprised to find there trust, hope and devotion. I lied to the woman immovably.

"Of course, Christine."


	5. Chapter 5

5.

She asked for threads and a needle. She took all my clothes out and began to revise them one by one. Sitting on a chair, she made two piles: to the right and to the left - the left one much larger than the other. Finished, she gathered the right-side pile, and took it to the bedroom. I moved closer, to see what was going on inside. She was folding the clothes carefully, before putting them back in the cabinet.

Judging by the amount, she had left to be repaired, she was going to be occupied for quite some time. I put on my vest and my coat, noticing how she smiled at my actions. The only time when she would smile.

I went for a walk, to get Christine out of my sight. In her presence I was unable to think clearly. Lately, my perspective had shrunk considerably, and I didn't like the influence she was having over my mind flow. In the silence of the tunnels, I finally managed to focus myself on the main question: the husband.

That Viscount of hers. He was a threat and needed to be eliminated. I had to strike first before he could come here, searching for her. She was no longer his. Christine was sure, he was going to come and try to kill me. He had definitely succeeded in making her believe it. That man. He had possessed everything a man could have, and being the rare fool he was, he couldn't manage to keep it. To hit her in the face. To make her beg for food. The same man who was ready to die for her, not so long ago. She said he had changed. That was the answer to the riddle, perhaps. But why? And when? If my dick could be seen as an indicator, I have changed too. I could not remember the last time I felt aroused for a woman. Speaking of it, I couldn't remember being excited about anything in the near past. Even my music was a sanctuary, deprived of any emotions. It held beauty, of course, but the way I was creating it, had nothing to do with feeling it. Was it better that way? Worse? I didn't know. I didn't know what I felt anymore or if I was feeling anything at all.

The Viscount. He had felt something on that last day with her. Christine said he had been angry at her. So angry as to cast her aside like a garbage and threaten the life of his own son. It was already too late to see how ugly the child could have been, but I was convinced, it wasn't as bad as my face. I had Christine for a prove, after all. She loved him. She wouldn't if he was that ugly. I knew the exact limit of her acceptance, and the extend of her love told me, he had only minor flaws.

Her husband didn't think they were to be neglected, though. I could imagine his surprise at the site of Etienne's ear. He had not expected it from someone as beautiful as Christine. In my mind, he was holding the baby with two fingers, with round bulging eyes and wide opened mouth, screaming high pitched "Help me! Help me! The monster is going to eat me! Help me! Help me!".

At that thought, I burst into laughter. It was a laud uncontrollable sound, pouring out of me. My head snapped back and tears slid down my face but I couldn't stop. Oh, the Viscount! Soon, my whole body began to quiver, and I bent over as my abdominal muscles protested against the excessive force applied on them. I put a hand on the wall to keep my balance, laughing harder despite my knowing, there was nothing to be laughed at. I couldn't stop it for a long while.

Silence came together with the total exhaustion. And relieve? All my energy was spent on that exercise, and being on the 3th level below ground I was certain, I've been heard. Someone, somewhere was going to start a new tale of the opera ghost. I spat bitterly on the ground. Curse them all and let them rot in Hell for their stupidity.

I went on with my walk, calmed and ready to clarify the details of my 14th murder. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life waiting for him to appear at my door. He had money and position to bring down here an entire army of men and dogs. It was a damned necessity. The location of the Viscount was the only fact I knew for sure. I needed around three days to make it there, and three more to return to Paris and even then, the horse wasn't going to survive the journey. Christine shouldn't be left alone during my absence, and I had only one person to go to. I heard my teeth grit before realizing how hard my jaws were clenched. Was there any other option?

Fighting my unwillingness to contact her, and measuring the pros and cons for every step of my plan, I continued to walk away from the theater. I haven't been that far recently, so I took a mental note to be more careful. Letting my mind polish the details of the trip, I freed my eyes to scan the area for anything suspicious.

As if I knew it! Looking from a distance, the object appeared to be a semi-large stone, tucked into the wrong place in the wall. Coming closer, I saw it was a human head. It had mummified long ago, but at a closer inspection, I recognized it as a female one. You can believe me or not, but I've found things much more peculiar than an old, standalone head in the catacombs. I turned it in my hands to all sides and luckily didn't find any injuries. A good specimen, regarding I had only one female head in my collection. The skin was hard yet crispy, and I broke some, while opening the mouth to use the lower jaw as a handle. The teeth looked good, maybe she had been a young girl. Or maybe she was living a luxurious life? A wife of a nobleman or a rich merchant? Who cared?

I started my way back and hurried up, to be able to tend to the head soon. There were some operations that needed to be done before she might join my collection.

xxx

The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by a pastoral view, quite unusual for my quarters. Christine was sitting by the lake, surrounded by togs. She was patching a pair of trousers singing softly to herself. She was calm and relaxed and her voice was clear and very fine pitched. Eyes closed, I stood and listened, until she abruptly stopped her singing mid verse.

She was standing on her feet, clothes and needle dropped to the ground, staring at the object in my hand. A second later I heard her voice again.

"Oh, my God! What have you done?"

I tried to approach and to show her it was harmless, but she backed away, narrowly avoiding the lake. Her outstretched hands were telling me not to come closer. I stopped and placed the head on the ground.

"Christine, …"

"Wh...why do you bring that here. Stay... stay back! You are sick! Stay back!"

"Will you let me explain..."

She was both terrified and angry and quite unable to comprehend anything. I should have known, damn it!

"You can't bring that here. You enjoy it,fine, I understand, but keep them away. Away! "

Irritated, I sat down, folded my hands and waited for her nerves to relax. Did she just say I LIKED killing? No, it couldn't be. I've told her already. Didn't she listen? Probably not.

Looking at me nervously she finally stopped with her screams, but kept her distance still.

"Ready to hear me now?"

I didn't wait for a reply. I put my hand on the head.

"This, I found in the tunnels. She was killed long ago and somebody decided to hide the head underground. Don't tell me you think I am the only murderer in the city."

She visibly loosen her stance at my words.

"You are taking it to the police?"

I lifted my brows. What an absurd idea.

"They have enough to do already. Besides, what will they do with an old head and a note – have a nice day – and nothing more? I can not be seen, remember?"

She took a step towards me and gestured to the head, with a look of disgust.

"Why did you take it then? It's horrible."

Leaving the trophy on the ground, I took a candle and lit all the candelabra in the room. Then, I went to the back of my organ and looked back at the woman.

"Come, I'll show you."

Christine approached, careful not to touch me anywhere. It was understandable - I, myself wanted to take a bath as soon as possible.

I pointed the lock to her, opened the door and lead her down the circle stairs to my most secret place. Several steps before the end, I stopped and turned to look in her eyes. She was excited and a little afraid.

"Here is the hiding place I used while the mob ransacked my home. It is directly under the lake, and is the lowest point below the opera house."

"Why are you telling me this? It wasn't my fault they came to search for you."

I shook my head.

"It's not about anyone's fault. You can use this place to hide, if someone is to come here uninvited."

She gazed behind me, trying to distinguish what was there in the room.

"I should warn you, Christine. Initially, I built it as a tomb. Scary ah? It has mechanisms which allow the water of the lake to be poured down here, filling it up completely. You shouldn't touch anything you are not familiar with. Do you understand? One mistake, and you can drown yourself, and no one would be able to find your body. "

She was giving me her full attention now. And I haven't come to the most interesting part yet.

"You said initially. What happened?"

"I decided, I could live a little longer, and found a new purpose to the room. It has food and water stored for a month, so if you ever find yourself uneasy or frightened, just go down here and wait. It's the first place I will look in, if you are missing."

Christine held my gaze for a long time and I was sure she was telling me something without words.

I cleared my throat.

"There is something more. Something you will not like. "

I didn't know how to say it otherwise.

"I have a collection of … sculls, here. It began as a decoration for the tomb, but when I started to learn anatomy, I became fond of bones, especially sculls. They are very interesting to observe. I haven't killed those people, Christine. I find the heads, clean them and place them on the shelves here. "

I was curtain, she would ask to go back, but she glanced behind me again and swallowed silently.

"You didn't kill them?"

"None."

I waited several minutes before asking.

"Are you ready to see now?"

She swallowed again and nodded briskly.

I went down the final steps and blew the candle out.

"Wait!"

Reaching back I found her hand and she clasped mine with a force. I took her to the center of the room and stood silent for a minute to accommodate my eyes. I dragged her in front of me and whispered in her ear.

"Look up."

Her nape pressed to my chest, as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Then she gasped, and I knew she had seen them. I smiled jauntily and continued to whisper an explanation.

"To the left is Ursa Minor with Polaris, circled by Ursa Major, Canes venatici, Draco, Cepheus and Perseus."

She was breathing heavy, turning her head from left to right and back.

"How?"

"White-glass bottles, placed vertically in the bottom of the lake, mouth down. When all the candles are fired upstairs, sometimes their light is enough to penetrate the water layer and can be seen from here, while in total darkness."

"Why?"

"In days of heavy rain the water is too..."

"No, why did you make this? It is colossal."

Like she knew the real meaning of this word.

"I wanted to die under the night sky."

Christine continued to look up, but her head stopped turning.

"How long have you lived here?"

A moment to perform the calculation... That long?

"26 years."

Another long pause.

"Alone..."

It was not a question anymore, I didn't have to answer it. I haven't realized I've spent that much time underground. 26 years. She hasn't even been born.

After a while, she lowered her face and I went to light up a gas lamp. Though I prefer candles, they tend to use more space, so in my studies I usually use lamps. They are safer too.

"You are standing right in front of the sculls, Christine, keep that in mind."

She took a quick step back, ready to cover her eyes if the view should become too disturbing. The light become stronger and she froze in her place. The two shelves with the neatly positioned white bones were screaming for a reaction, but she simply stood there totally petrified.

I came before her, and took 121065 in my hand.

"I have 20 male, one female and 8 animal sculls. Animals are most difficult to find, especially the larger species. Here, have a closer look at this one."

I trust it into her hands, before she could manage to refuse.

Christine looked down and I began to worry. What if she decided to drop it to the ground? It was one of my favorites. She turned it to look into the hollow eye sockets.

"This was a human once, a person. How can you treat it like an ordinary object?"

I put my hands on my waist to busy them.

"I do not."

She looked at me frowning deeply.

"I don't spend hours studding ordinary objects. I don't make special place for them and I certainly, don't walk for hours at a time to search for a new one. Those are objects, it can not be denied, but they are very special."

"Those are heads! Human heads! They talked and laughed and smiled and kissed. You regard them as if they are stones or ... I don't know. They should be buried in peace, not mocked at!"

As her voice began to rise, mine got quieter.

"And who said that I mock them? There are many ways to show respect. We are six stores under the ground, we are practically buried alive here. Would you prefer if I'd left them for the rats to play with? Do you know how many bodies I've found attached to those heads? None! A human, a person, like you said, took the liberty to behead your poor souls and then threw the heads in the tunnels to hide their identity. None of them were fresh, so nobody had come to look for them for quite some time. I took them, cleaned them, and found them a respectful place to rest. Was that wrong, Christine?"

Her anger melted as I spoke and she turned her eyes to the scull again. Carefully she put it in its place, and moved back to get them all into view, hugging herself.

"I suppose, they don't have names."

I took another one and showed her the marking.

"They have numbers. Its the date of their discovery. Day, month, year."

"Numbers... they sound so cold."

"I … wanted to put them on equal base. And to me all numbers are equally cold."

I moved the sculls a little, to make place for the new one. It wasn't large, it would fit in easily.

Christine was walking around the room looking at the objects and the machinery scattered on the working plot.

"Are you going to invent something? "

I went to see, trying seriously to remember what was the last thing I'd been working on here. Gazing at the instruments for a hint was not successful either. I picked up a detail to get a closer look, but in vain.

"Its been long since I've been here. It could be anything."

She looked at me puzzled.

"I used to be knowledge - thirsty and experimented with everything, in order to learn more. I was using all my time, following my curiosity."

"And when you've learned it all, you grew bored and abandoned it?"

No. When you left, I realized how pointless it was to gather knowledge when you have nobody to share it with.

"Yes."

She turned sharply to look at me. I met her eyes ready to answer to more questions, but none came. Instead she looked at the ground and placed a hand on her stomach. The baby.

"Let's have something for supper, Christine."

xxx

After we emerged and I fed her both food and more lies, she showed me the result of her work. Clothes I've thought ripped beyond repair were looking as good as new! How ironic – none of my "colossal" works had ever helped me that much in the everyday life. Quite surprised, I found myself with a lot more usable shirts and pants. And underwear? Christine blushed furiously when she lead me to the bedroom to show a neatly folded stack of mended underpants in the cabinet. I didn't expect her to blush now, after last night's events. Yet she did. Her face looked better with the added color on her cheeks.

"Angel?"

Her blush had deepen considerably. I looked pointedly at her. Her voice came out shyly, almost like two years ago.

"May I use your oldest clothes to make something more fitting for me?"

Crap! I've totally forgotten about this. After days of seeing Christine in trousers, shirt and a vest, I've grown used to it. Getting careless, old man?

"No, Christine, don't bother. I'll get you dresses, first thing in the morning. I promise."

While I spoke she rushed towards me, as if to stop me, and put her hands to her mouth. It annoys me a lot – I can't understand what she is saying when she does that. And she was going to beg.

"Angel, please, you don't have to. There are a couple of old shirts I can use, really. Buy yourself new ones, you need them. "

I frowned at her.

"Listen to yourself, Christine! You are not a servant or a slave. You are a lady, and a guest at my house. Tomorrow I will bring you everything a lady needs to feel like one. I thought you knew me better."

Christine was looking at her feet already, and certain I'd made my point, I turned to exit the bedroom.

"People change."

She sounded deep in her mind, and suddenly, I felt it. I whirled and reaching her, grabbed her arms roughly. She looked up, startled. Oh, that pain! I was burning alive. I shook her a little.

"What happened, Christine? What did he do? How did he change? Speak, girl! You must speak, God damn it!"

The silence prolonged and my power ended, leaving a tremendous tiredness inside my body. As quickly as it came it was gone. The fury, the power, that sense of being alive. I let a deep sigh out and let her go.

She didn't move away. She put her hand up and traced the place of a missing button on my shirt. I was depleted, I couldn't move.

"It is very kind of you, to buy me a dress but I really don't want it. Believe me, Angel, please. Those men clothes are much more comfortable and warm to wear underground. Please, don't be offended but I really prefer them now, after I got used to them. I only need your permission to … to remodel them because they are very big."

I looked at her then and took her hand away from my body.

"Like I said, tomorrow, I will bring you new clothes."

She humped her shoulders in defeat and sat on the bed.

"And I thought I was never going to buy boy's clothes again."

I came to kneel before her, when she finally got the meaning of my words. She smiled slowly and caressed my shoulder a few times. I picked her foot and took its measures. The most important part were the shoes and up till now she was managing with several pairs of socks, one on top of the other. They were wet. What was going on with me? I can not be that much distracted. Five days!

She was still smiling when I finished, and it was suspicious.

"Did I tickle you?"

"No, Angel. "

"What, then? What is so funny?"

"You make my wishes come true."

I bit my cheek not to laugh.

"You dream of dressing like a man, in a cave underground?"

She giggled for a short moment, before turning serious again.

"I dreamed to have someone who would really listen to me."

My iron heart wanted to ask if that was before or after she'd left, but I kept my mouth shut. Making her uncomfortable was not bringing any joy to myself. Ever.

She became literary red, in a course of a second.

"Last night... it was another long wished dream."

I didn't understand. She continued to smile and her eyes unfocused.

"Our last summer in Sweden with Papa was peaceful and beautiful. People around us were really, really happy. I don't remember how exactly I saw them but I did. A man and a woman sleeping in each others arms in a barn or … I don't remember. They were naked and were holding to each other with arms and legs... with everything. They were the happiest of us all. I felt it in my heart even if I was just a very little girl. Ever since, I was expecting to do this and find perfect happiness in the arms of the man I loved most."

Her smile died and she looked at me sadly.

"Raoul, thought it was improper, and never allowed it."

He can not be that stupid. Her body is a piece of art. Which man will look away from her? If he wasn't ... how curious.

"And you didn't make love?"

Christine looked up at my casual tone. I was supposed to be angry or upset at the topic. Well, I was not.

"We … mated."

"You pick a name..."

"No! It is not the same! We did it to make a baby."

"Making babies, mating, making love, how are they not the same, Christine?"

"They are not! Mating is a duty, an obligation. Making love is a pleasure in which you show the other how much you love him. "

My knee was beginning to hurt. I stood from the floor and sat next to her. She was looking at her lap, twisting her fingers.

"I still can not see how I made your wish come true. Did you feel happy, last night?"

Christine bit her lips.

"Let me answer this for you, Christine. Last night I almost broke your arm, I made you cry for a thousand time and I forced my hellish face on your body. You were not happy."

"Last night, you held me for hours even in your sleep, you didn't turn your back to me. Last night you gave my body more kisses than I'd received from Raoul in one year... Last night you showed me that I still value something to someone. My tears were tears of relieve, Angel. I was never kissed like that before. I was more than happy, Angel."

She was crying again, and before I could stop her, she kissed the palm of my hand.

I stood up making several steps towards the "bathroom".

"If that was such a bliss, you would not object to doing it again. Tonight."

She brushed her eyes and looked up at me. Smiling?

"Tonight, and every night after this."

The head will have to wait. I showered quickly, thinking of Christine. How was she able to cry so much. Then suddenly to smile? Tears and smiles. We were living between tears and smiles. For how long?


	6. Chapter 6

6.

It was early on the next morning when I was heading back with the promised toggery. I'd left my order for the shoes cause there were none, small enough for the tiny feet of Christine. Prices had come up since I had needed those services last, but it was irrelevant for such a long time investment. Shirts especially, are very lasting when not exposed to severe weather or mud. The unavoidable wetness underground is not so much of a problem when the materials are of the highest quality. She was going to like them.

I don't know what made me go near the chapel. An act of God? The habit, more likely.

You will never guess what I found in there - another sobbing woman kneeling on the ground. Was I destined to hear crying for the rest of my life? Wasn't Christine enough? Disgusting vulnerability! I turned to where I came from, my mood considerably spoiled by the sobs. When I was running the theater there were less tears around here. Hell, I am starting to hate the sound of it, really...

"...Christine..."

I halted and listened more carefully.

"… Christine …"

Coming back to the wall, I looked again at the woman. She was familiar to me, but I knew almost all cast members by face and name. No, she was more than familiar, and when she lifted her eyes to address heaven, I recognized Meg Giry. She was praying for Christine? Pretty close, old devil, pretty close.

"Oh, dear Lord, let her be save! Don't let him harm her and the baby. Please Lord, watch over Christine and her child. She is a pure soul, she doesn't deserve this. Let her come back safely from that awful place. Oh, my poor heart is breaking. Oh Lord, listen to my humble prays and keep her safe! Oh, Christine, what had happened to you..."

Stupid caw! What if I throw a bone at her, with a note "She was very tasty. Bring the next one in!" ? At the moment, I wanted to scare the wits out of her and that was exactly what I was going to do! Let her fear me for a reason. That bitch! For eight years she and her mother received their 10 000 F a month without a word of gratitude. As if I was obliged to! I'll make her nights seem longer!

"Megan Giry! Megan Giry! ..."

I whispered it several times, then let my voice rise and made it to appear from several different places. She jumped at first and froze getting paler with every repetition. Her hands began to shake badly. She had been there, during my opera. She knew I was anything but a ghost and yet, she was falling for my trick. Silly, silly Megan. My smile grew wider with all the signs of terror on Meg's face. Should I be merciful? It was her first time, after all. A close friend of Christine, she had been spared any distressing events in the past. But now I could not find a single reason to stop the game.

"... Megan Giry! Megan Giry!..."

Except one. How did she know, Christine was with me? Who had closed the door of the chapel that night? I haven't forgotten about this. How did Christine know I was going to be there? That bloody witch! Anyway, this was coming along with my plan so I abandoned the previous manipulation and got to the point.

"If you want to see Christine, Megan Giry, tell your mother to come here today, at 12 o'clock sharp. Alone! Be gone form here! Now!"

At the last thundering word, she jumped like a brainless gazelle and run through the door. I let myself laugh - it's a real fun to be a ghost, sometimes.

xxx

"You are going to kill Raoul!"

Straight to the point, Madam? How surprisingly non typical. But bravo, she'd made the connection in less than 10 seconds. Clever and beautiful – surprisingly non typical again. If only I could make myself care for her beauty. Alas.

"You want him dead, you always did. But why … why now? You said we are safe here now. You said you were certain we are safe. Why don't you leave him alone? Please, Angel. Don't kill for my sake. Please?"

She was staring at me, as I was moving around, gathering the items needed for my journey. Her hands were folded for a prayer. I was only half listening to her but the lack of passion in her plea was so evident, I could not miss it. She wasn't convinced. A true christian, she was trying to do the right thing, and at the same time I could see the doubt in her eyes. We were talking about murder here. What was going on in her head?

"I won't lie, I want him out of my life permanently. The risk of him coming here to seek you out, is far from negligible and I, will do what I must, to protect myself."

"Is there no other way?"

I was glad she was unable to realize it. If Christine was to return to her husband, I would be safe undoubtedly. But, this wasn't only about my safety anymore. I could not put Christine to such a risk. Even beyond all ruins of my love, and clearly apathetic towards her, I was still her protector. I had guarded her life, long before any manifestation of affection had come into view. A responsibility I was not inclined to hand him ever again. The sight of her in the chapel, holding the little corps in her arms was constantly before my eyes. My lies were the only reason she was sane, and I was going to keep them running as longer as possible and for this, she would need to stay here with me.

"No."

She was pale and upset but I had already found how to make it easier for her. She couldn't say I did not try. I was still looking around for my belongings when I said.

"For your information, I intend to propose him a fair fight. He will have his chances."

She grasped my arm breaking my concentration and movement. Her eyes were incredibly wide.

"No! This is a certain death! A suicide! He is even better with the sword now. I've seen him fight twice and he was victorious every time. Don't …"

"I've seen his style, Christine..."

She shook her head sharply and pulled at my arm again.

"You don't know anything! You... you think you know but you don't. It was different then... He was distracted by me … and confused. I've ...you've never seen him that much focused before. It's so frightening to see, I thought I was going mad. I am telling you, he is not the same man!"

I stood silent in front of her. The conclusions from her actions were disturbing even to me, the cold-blooded murderer. It appeared she could not decide which outcome would be worse. The woman was fighting a heavy battle with herself but it was hers and hers alone. I said it again.

"He will have his chances, Christine. It's pointless to proceed with this conversation. I am leaving in the afternoon and I will be glad if all the necessary equipment leaves with me."

She nodded, understanding my allusion. Her head was bowed so I didn't expect it when she started to whisper.

"Please don't leave me, de... Angel. Don't leave me alone."

Her voice was so broken that I turned to see her face. She was more than sad, she was that devastated woman I had met in the chapel not so long ago. She had nothing to fear though.

"Of course not! You are staying with the Giry's for a week, that's all."

Her look became uneasy as she was searching my face for something. Defeated, she finally voiced her doubts.

"Madam will warn Raoul that you are coming. She will tell him I am alone now. What if..."

I saw her point – she was afraid to be found – but why, I didn't know. Well that was one of the things I was going to insist for, from her Viscount. One way or another he was going to tell me everything I wanted to know.

"Do not think about this, Christine. I'll make sure you are kept safe there."

I cast a look around to put her away from my sight. So, it was time.

"Be ready to go, when I return. You may take everything that you like with you."

This said, I left for the surface.

xxx

The old Giry was already there when I reached the chapel. She was nervous and I instantly became suspicious. I closed my eyes and listened for a long minute. Two different inhales greeted my expectations. She was not alone. I let my anger clear in my voice.

"I find your memory as unreliable as your loyalty, Madam. Do you not remember what befalls those who disobey my explicit instructions?"

She kept her silence, obviously unsure of what to say or do. Her frown deepen and so did mine.

"Whoever is behind that door, will come out now if he values his life!"

Madam turned towards the door swiftly, surprised and worried. Quite shakily, Meg entered the chapel looking at her feet. The old woman was irritated and uneasy at the same time.

"For Heaven's sake, Megan..."

I didn't have time for this.

"Silence! Put yourself to use Megan and make sure no one will come in here. Now!"

Biting her lips, she made a short and funny curtsey and disappeared behind the door.

I stepped in and saw the woman move away from me. Ironical smile twisted my lips.

"Do I look prettier, Madam? No? Shame on me. Same old ugly face to scare the good people away."

She didn't answer my teasing but moved her gaze up and down my height several times, holding still on some places. She sighed heavily and I let my only friend find her words in peace.

Hell, no!

"Do you see the blood lusting monster or shell I make a little demonstration? You should be terrified, Madam. Your precious Christine has been in my power for the last 6 days, without a word escaping to the land of sunlight about her well being. Did you write to your friend to inform him of her whereabouts? "

She was getting more and more confused.

"What friend? I don't understand..."

"Then let me clarify it for you, most honorable Madam. Did you write to the Viscount or not!"

She stared at me intensely, her cold expression unable to conceal the worry beneath.

"I did not dare to."

"Really, Madam? You didn't rush to the savior, yet you knew the demon was still alive? Accept my doubts, Madam."

She took one step closer, looking me in the eyes.

"It was my first thought, I must confess, but the moment I mouthed my suggestion to her, I realized it had been a huge mistake. Christine, run from me and refused any help I was offering. She didn't believe I was working on her favor."

"And you let her go? Her and the little child? Do you have no heart?"

She shook her head spreading her arms in a hopeless gesture.

"God knows I tried to make her stay, numerous times. She was keeping her distance and only asking about you."

"When did you see her for the first time?"

The woman thought for a moment before looking back at me, her eyes full with sorrow.

"Today is the 14th day, if I am not mistaken."

More than a week. Should I ask about the child? He had been still alive then.

"Was he crying when she came?"

At that moment Madam Giry became dead pale and I knew she had understood my question correctly. She simply nodded and turned away from me.

I hated her. God and Devil, I wanted her dead! Now! If there had been any option to leave Christine alone, this would have been the dead place of the old witch, I vow. She had left the girl to starve for 8 days, causing the dead of her baby. I was most certainly dead myself and brought in Hell. All the people had turned to devils in my absence but somehow, I didn't acknowledge them as my brothers and sisters. It was worse than Hell here, for the innocent were left among the demons to search for pity and compassion like Diogenes with his lantern. How was this possible? My poor Christine.

While in my thoughts I didn't notice Madam was crying. A pointless, worthless action, conducted post factum to clean her conscience. Not so fast Madam, I want to see you suffer longer. I began to talk slowly, carefully stressing on every word to make them freshen her guilt.

"And you couldn't find a way to persuade her to stay for lunch? Or supper? You could have thrown the food at her in order to feed her, woman! You could have given her money or use that useless chick to get to her. To feed a starving girl is the easiest job in the world. There are million ways to do it, million! Why did you resigned so quickly? Answer me, you bloody bitch!"

She looked at me and I expected her to be as much offended as I was furious but she simply continued to cry. It was getting on my nerves already. I forced calmness in my voice and raised my hand, imploring truce.

"What's done is done. Luckily, I managed to get to her in time."

"What?"

Disbelieve clouded all other emotions on her face and she lost her ability to speak.

"She is well now, and the child I left with a family to raise him."

Now she was looking at me with nothing but terror in her eyes. I didn't give a damn about her state of shock. I needed to make that clear.

"I watch over the child and bring her news every day to keep her calm."

The woman in front of me was turning into a pile of terrorized meat. She slowly slid to the ground.

"You can't."

"Speak clearly, Madam."

"The baby was dead! I thought there was time but I was wrong! But this is not right. You can't do this. It will destroy her when she finds out. You must stop before its too late!"

I observed her coldly for a while. She was tough, she was going to make it, I knew it. She had failed to help Christine in her darkest hours but she was going to help her now. And she was going to do it marvelously well. I knew how to inspire her enthusiasm.

"I hope I didn't hear you clearly, Madam. I am going to say this only once, so open your ears and listen very carefully."

If there was a time in my life, when I had felt really evil beyond recognition, it was at that moment when I summoned the inferno legacy of my father. The white-hot flames in my eyes made her stagger backwards as I approached her deliberately slowly.

"Christine's son is as alive as your daughter is, and I have a strong suspicion you would like them to stay that way. You understand, both being mothers connects you in a unique manner. It can be a blessing or a curse – the choice is yours. I don't care what you believe is the truth here, for I know what I saw and what I did!"

Her expression was indescribable while she was accepting the validity of my threat. She used to be an ally of a sort, and even after her betrayal, I wasn't inclined to harm her or her daughter. But now I was going to keep my word and kill Meg if she disobeys me. The world was falling apart around me and would not keep any foolish sentiment towards those who had proven to be playing for the enemy.

"Instill any doubt about the baby in Christine, and there will be two more mourning mothers in Paris in a week."

I went to her and pulled her up on her feet quite forcefully.

"I am leaving for a week, and Christine will be staying with you during my absence. You may ask about the baby if you must, but be careful for she is still quite fragile. Let her talk with Megan as much as she want. Don't allow her to go out alone. Feed her, this time, I will provide for all your needs."

She wasn't well, it was obvious. The fear had driven her to a state of some physical shock and being the witness of Christine's grief, I knew how terrified she really was. Finally, I was myself in her eyes – the monster who could kill her child without the slightest hesitation. So be it, if that will make her keep her mouth shut. I didn't want her to see how tired and unwilling I really was and my next words were spoken coldly.

"Pull yourself together, Madam, you don't have much time. Christine will appear near the marked entrance in half an hour, and will become your responsibility once again. You count seven days, starting tomorrow and on the last day I will expect her to wait for me in the chapel at dusk."

Was it necessary to say her about this? Unfortunately it was.

"If I do not return, for it is possible, though very unlikely, wait for three more days and ask her about the letter she will be caring with herself. It will contain instructions, very simple instructions for you, her and Meg to follow. "

The old Madam Giry was looking at me now. It took her little time to compose herself to her typical state of a dried fish impaled on a skewer. Curiously, I could not see hatred in her eyes.

"Fine, but I will pray for your safe return, Monsieur. And I will wait not three but five days before referring to said letter. A journey may last longer, in these days of insecurity. We will be waiting for you."

She nodded a goodbyе and turned to go. My voice however, stopped her there.

"I would strongly recommend for her presence here to remain unnoticed both inside and outside the city."

Madam Giry nodded again looking behind her shoulder.

"Farewell, Monsieur."

She made one more step towards the door and halted again without looking back at me.

"I will take care of the candle, while you are gone."

Antoinette Giry, that was her way to apologize.

"Forget about the candle, Madam, I have no interest in such useless things anymore."

"Useless, Monsieur? She... they made it here alive didn't they. An angel, I would say, have watched over them, thank God."

The door clicked behind her back and I started the familiar walk down to the fifth. If Madam was correct, not God but the Devil had watched over my Christine on her way home and I was going to make sure, the same Devil would welcome the Viscount at the eternal gates of Hell.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

It was 2 in the morning when I found him in the study. The Viscount was writing quietly on a large desk, covered with paper sheets, both used and new. When he looked up at the window, his face became illuminated by the modest light of the single gas lamp on the table. Christine was obviously right - I didn't know that man anymore.

The face was pale with deep shadows under the cheek bones and a scar, to the left of his mouth. A grownup man with a certain heaviness of years had replaced the light boyish lad from three years ago. His eyes, looking systematically at the documents splayed on the surface, held nothing of the pure heroism from before. There was bitterness and stillness and above all - thoughtfulness engulfed his whole demeanor. Was he thinking about Christine or the child?

Without a sound I entered the room bringing the gun at the level of his face.

"Good evening, Monsieur."

He didn't show any surprise. The Viscount leaned back in the chair, casually throwing his pen on the table. He gave the gun a passing glance, then met my eyes.

"It is a good evening indeed, Monsieur Phantom, though I must admit I was expecting you earlier?"

I wasn't inclined to answer his questions. The hate, I was fighting to keep under control was making me eager to pull the trigger and leave for Paris, but I had given my word to Christine. Besides, I prefered to kill him personally.

"I have a proposition for you, Viscount. There are..."

He raised his hand apologetically.

"Forgive my interruption Monsieur, but if we are to have a civilized conversation, and I insist that we have one, firstly I will invite you to make yourself comfortable and ..."

He trailed gesturing towards the chair near the hearth.

"... and secondly I will take your order for a drink. I will recommend a certain Scotch, I myself am drinking at the moment. I am quite sure you are cold from your travel."

He stood and poured another glass similar to his own, then placed it on the table's end, closest to that chair. The man was totally unafraid of the weapon, still pointed at his head. He sat back in his place and said quietly.

"You are my guest and under my protection in this house. And ... if you only wanted to kill me I would have been dead by now."

He was right, and so I hid the gun while taking the chair and the cup. His salute was short and brisk without a trace of nervousness. I gulped my glass never leaving him out of my sight. It wasn't fright, but the man was absolutely unpredictable and this made me uneasy and even more suspicious.

"Now, you said you had a proposition to make."

Tasting both the spirits and the new situation I was in, I chose a provocation.

"You are acting strangely, Monsieur. As a truly concerned 'Pater Familias' your first question should have been about your wife and son. I am puzzled – being hospitable to an admitted enemy after leaving your own family on the street to starve."

The Viscount gave me an empty look before he averted his eyes to the window. Was it possible for a fool to become wiser?

"I would like to hear your offer now, if you don't mind."

"Very well. You know where Christine is at the moment. As I intend to keep her there with me, I want to ensure her safety as well as my own. Unfortunately, witnessing the state she was in, when she arrived, and knowing who was responsible for her pain and misery, I find no other way but to eliminate the one behind all that."

He listened, giving me his full attention and nodding at the end. However, he said nothing, leaving more room for me to continue.

"I promised Christine, I will offer you a fair fight. I suggest a sword's fight as you are well familiar with the weapon. If you refuse, I intend to use the gun you've already seen. "

I looked at my watch. Wasting time with the Viscount was not in my agenda at all.

"I will appreciate it, if you can give me an answer within an hour, Monsieur."

He took a deep breath in and nodded again, sighing heavily. I reached for the glass and he filled it hospitably. The first drink had warmed me up inside quite effectively. Calm, I had noting to worry about anymore. It was clear the Viscount was already prepared to meet his maker, and I knew he wasn't going to trick me into something. In spite of his changed behavior, he was still a man of his word. For a moment, I thought about killing him immediately but the Scotch and my own tiredness had made me lazy, so instead I contented to observe him a little longer. He would have his one hour.

Seeing him like this, bitter and lifeless, did not lessen the hatred but sparkled my curiosity. I wanted to know the reason behind this. It's always better to be prepared and I was already walking on thin ice with Christine, considering the baby. Surely, I could use some more information.

Going back to the husband, I caught him staring at the empty glass, I was unconsciously holding in my hand. I placed in on the desk to get rid of it, but his eyes continued to follow my hand back to my lap. A quick sad smile passed over his face for a moment, before he returned to his serious expression. A deep frown changed his features again.

"A sword's duel? I am astonished, Monsieur. Did she not tell you what happened to two of her lovers after meeting me at similar circumstances? One ended dead, the other - crippled. I bet you didn't know that."

Something clicked into place in my mind. Two lovers. Yes, she had tried to warn me but I was never going to ask for a different weapon, God damned! I fought back.

"Am I supposed to be surprised by your unability to satisfy your wife, taking it instead on those, more gifted? Christine is a passionate woman, Viscount, she needs more but I am sure you are aware of that, now."

His face lost much of its color and he started to watch my hand again.

"You've made your proposition, now I will state mine. In lieu of your one hour, I will give you an answer now, but with one condition to it."

It was my turn to nod. To finish here faster was the only way to go back quicker and that was all I desired at that moment. Away from that wearying hatred. But I had a dirty work to do now, so I concentrated on his words.

"Three years ago I hated you, despised you and feared you, and I am not going to apologize for this now. I did everything I could, to stop you and to get you out of my way. God is my witness, I believed in my right to condemn you and to sentence you to thousands of years in Hell for what you've done."

It was the bitterness in his voice that prevented me from cutting his speech short. He was holding my gaze with his own, and it was evident none of the emotions described were present anymore.

"Today, however I can finally see you. No masks are necessary here, Monsieur. Please, take it down."

He was trying to distract me, I was convinced of that. I took my time, pushing to see through his request but at the end only benefits emerged in my mind. I removed the cloth and put it in my pocket as casually as my suddenly over tensed body could allow. Hell! It was no time to show my fears.

He studied my face briefly, then relaxed visibly for an unknown reason. Have no doubt about it, it was a night of surprises.

"You are weaseling, Viscount. The hour is running, but I haven't heard your condition yet. It would be very unwise to test my limits again."

"Of course, of course, forgive me, I couldn't … Well, I agree to fight you but only after you have listened to what I have to say. It will take more than an hour, I'm afraid, but if you find it boring you will still have your right to interrupt me and begin the duel. On this condition only, I will fight you, Monsieur, otherwise you can kill me as we speak."

Intriguing, is it not?

"Is it about Christine?"

"Yes, definitely about Christine, but not entirely. You understand probably, that at the end of our duel I can be prevented from talking to a confessor. I am a faithful catholic, and it is important for me to confess my sins before the end of my life. You will be my confessor, and I promise you, the tale will weave around Christine all the time."

A heaviness in my chest disappeared. This was going better with every minutes passed. He would give me all the missing facts from Christine's life without me even asking. Excellent. Keeping my excitement to myself, I placed my sword on the table – a sign that I would not tolerate any bullshit from this point on.

"I will oblige myself with your confession, Monsieur. Whenever you are ready."

He made a bow while sitting in the chair.

"You are very kind, Sir."

He raised the bottle with a question, and I allowed him to fill my glass for the third time this evening. Some people do it regularly, I know, but it was my first and probably last time being treated like a normal man, even more - like a gentleman, so I let myself enjoy it to the end. Meanwhile, his story unfolded.

"We left Paris two days after that night. I wanted to make her forget as soon as possible and naturally we went to Perros-Guirec. We both have dear memories from Perros, Monsieur. That summer..."

"I know all about Perros and the red scarf and the summer, Viscount, leave it, if you please."

He thought hard for a moment then nodded to himself several times. It appeared, he was used to talking to himself. As if I was the third or the forth participant in this conversation.

"As you wish. We settled into the house and for the first several days Christine seemed to get better. We talked of the past and of the future and she agreed to marry me in a couple of months. Preparations began. She met several girls from the town and I had the feeling everything was falling in its place. This, however, lasted shortly. I prohibited any news coming from the capital to be brought to her, as I feared she would get upset. And being confident of my ability to serve as both a best friend and beloved one, I declined Meg's proposals to visit Christine. I wanted all connections with the opera severed. I was wrong, I know that now but then, all I could see was a bright future for me with and my beloved Christine. I was so carried away I didn't notice the first signs of her indisposition. Untill one day her maid told me Christine had been keeping to her bedroom for the last days. When I saw her face I knew something was very wrong with her. She was still eating and smiling but something wasn't in place. Looking back at that time, I realize she never asked me about what was going on around the opera and I was too focused on my own happiness to notice that.

As the days progressed, she lost her appetite completely and I had to feed her personally in order to make her take anything. She was losing her will to live and nothing I did was making her feel better. How much she suffered, Monsieur, for nothing. I was told Christine had tried to sing several times but eventually all her attempts stopped.

At the end of the second month, at the beginning of the summer, she was already confined to bed. Instead of having romantic walks at sunset, I was running between doctors of all ages and cultures. Nothing helped. I could barely make her speak. Once or twice I begged her to sing a little, to lift her spirit up a little, but she had no strength for singing anymore.

It was the beginning of July when I began to fear, that I was loosing her for good. Doctors gave up. She was healthy and somehow, she was dieing before my very eyes.

I turned to God. The local church was the place where I could be found most of the time. Christine was often losing her consciousness now and I was feeling so helpless sitting at home and the church quickly became my second home. I was looking for a sign. I was punished for something and I wanted to know why.

One day, a letter came from Andre and Firmin, the managers. It said, there had been 9 people dead and 2 badly injured after the fire and the families were suing the opera for a very large sum of money each. They implied that because of the fact the plan for capturing the Phantom was mine, I was responsible for those deaths too.

It was a devastating news, Monsieur. I was horrified, I admit that, to be responsible for those tragedies. My arrogance was responsible. Suddenly, I was very aware of why God was taking Christine from me and there was nothing I could do to bring those people back. They were dead because of my arrogance and stupidity and now I was paying my price.

I literally moved into the church. Day and night I was begging God to spare Christine and to take my life instead, but he knew there would be no greater punishment for my sins than to see my love perish in front of my eyes. I send all the money to the families of the deceased and helped to restore the opera. I gave money to the local poor and to the church and only the pleas from my servants stopped me from giving everything away. Poor people thought me mad from grief and I truly was.

At that time I met Father Paul. He was a young man, younger than me with 2 or 3 years. His faith was like a flame. It fired up and inspired my own to a level I didn't think possible before. I let my despair blind me from the truth, Monsieur, but Christine was so close to her end, I was ready to follow anybody anywhere for a tiny shred of hope.

I confessed to him everything. Told him about my previous life and about hers. Paul was seeing things differently. He said that I was punished for my sins to see her die, but she was also sinful for participating in that place of sin and little faith – the opera house. And both of us were punished for living together without being married. Untill then I haven't thought about this because I was strictly respecting her privacy and we never did more than kissing, but the priest said it was sinful anyway.

We got married, with only Father Paul and the Major of Perros as our witnesses. Christine wasn't awake most of the time and afterwords she didn't remember anything of it at all. We were certain she was going to die anyway.

To purify my soul Paul suggested mortification of the flesh. We did fasting and hours of continuous praying. I lost track of days and nights. It was all starvation and humble pleas for mercy. I made a general recapitulation of my life and with the help of my friend, found all the weakness that had driven me away from God. Eventually, when Christine's maid came to tell me she was feeling better, another month had almost past. I was out of myself with joy and invited Father Paul to live with us. Besides being my spiritual teacher he had become a close friend I was eager to introduce to my wife. If I had only known.

To strengthen Christine further, we moved from the seaside deep into the continent. She liked the new house and how it was not isolated from the other people in the vicinity. She didn't remember anything from our marriage and we had to convince her it had really happen. Christine was disappointed though she didn't voice it. She had always dreamt of a beautiful wedding in the summer. Her confusion only grew when I began to explain my new ideals of our life in marriage. She had never been too religious even as a child and some of the practices I was insisting on, seemed non understandable to her. We were visiting the local church almost everyday to thank God for her miraculous recovery and as I was honestly praying for forgiveness I could see her looking at me with worry and concern. Reassured by my previous success and the constant approval of Father Paul, I dismissed her reluctance as unimportant. She was my wife by God and like God demanded obedience from me, the same way I thought I would demand it from her. I was like a true lunatic, finding sins in everything she was doing or saying. Poor Christine tried to talk me out of it when we were alone but this only made my resolve stronger. Try to understand, Monsieur, I was horrified that a single wrong word or deed would make God reconsider, and take her away from me. I honestly believed it was the right thing to do to redeem my sins and to keep her safe from committing such herself. I restrained myself from nearly every caress punishing myself for my unending desire for her. I should have succumbed to her but I refused everything that had even a slightest resemblance of passion.

I crippled my love and destroyed hers completely. After being so close to her end she wanted to live like never before and I did everything to cage her soul inside my own despair. We became distant. I wanted a child to make our union sacred but it wasn't ment to be. Even more... Now, Monsieur, I am talking to you as my confessor but as a man too. Blind in my faith I didn't realize I was hurting her. Physically. Not until one of my oldest servants brought me an oil to use in bed. At first I was angry and refused to even listen to him. But on that same night I payed much more attention to her responses to me and I saw the pain. I didn't know that the woman should not be dry when doing this. I didn't know and was forbidden to touch her there with anything else but my member. Between the sin and the shame I chose the shame once more. Soon after that she began to refuse me and I didn't have the heart to insist. In my heart I knew what I had done had been too close to a rape to be right but Father Paul assured me I've done nothing wrong. He blamed it on Christine and her vulgar life at the opera. To him she was so used to the lustful practices that she was unable to inspire her body sorely with thoughts of God. As if I could do it! Ashamed from my own failure I let her take the blame. Yes, it is hard to be believed now but at that time I was trusting every word coming from his mouth.

We celebrated the new 1872 year with several neighbors close to my family. There Christine met Cavalier de Tamerlan. They liked each other instantly. The Cavalier was a well build man much taller and stronger than me. He was good mannered with a sharp mind and a vast knowledge over numerous topics. I respected him very much and envied him for his charm and experience with women when I was younger. Much older than me, he never took me seriously as a potential friend or companion. Christine, however, he noticed the moment we entered the hall.

Thereafter, he became a regular in our house. I didn't mind because he was making Christine smile, something I was hardly able to do anymore. And when in a better mood she reminded me of her old self by the sea. And like I said I had a great respect for Tamerlan.

One day Christine told me about him becoming bolder and not so decent. She said he was trying to seduce her verbally and that she had pushed him away. Instead of talking to the man and protecting whatever relationship I still had with my wife, I responded by saying the Cavalier had been simply overly friendly with her. I said there was nothing wrong with this. I know, it sounds like a contradiction to my previous words of keeping close to God, but it's not. I really had a very good opinion of Tamerlan and to make it worse, my faith in Christine's judgement about life was fully destroyed by the priest. I was convinced she was mistaken, and I continued to be, until the day I caught them kissing in the garden.

I didn't believe my eyes, at first. There was passion in their kiss, I have never before seen in her. Like the well trained dog I was, I blamed it on her years in the opera house. I blamed him too, and fought him on the next day. Christine begged me not to fight because she was afraid I would be killed. She took the blame and swore there had been nothing between them, just that kiss, but I didn't believe her. I went to the place and won the duel by cutting his right wrist off. I was so angry inside of me I let it go and did it on purpose. Would it be a surprise for you to learn that he was a very good pianist? I wanted to make him suffer like I did and I made him unable to play ever again.

Once the anger subsided, guilt took its place and I couldn't face neither Christine nor Father Paul for more than a week. I locked myself in the chapel and prayed, forgetting of everybody and everything. At the end the servants took me out by force and under the supervision of Father Paul fed me like a child. I was constantly crying for forgiveness. Instead of punishing them for staining my name, I had punished myself, because I believed my sin to be greater than theirs. After much tears and begging from both sides me and Christine resumed some kind of normal attitude towards one another. We were friendly. I tried to recreate the spark between us but it was already too late.

Christine did all she could to convince me of her loyalty. She even let me back into our bedroom and we continued our attempts at conceiving a child. I thought we had an improvement because she wasn't dry anymore and the reason should only be found in her deep regret to what had happened and the renewed closeness between us. The truth was, she was thinking of him while doing it. How do I know? The future made me realize how wrong I had been about a lot of matters.

Her next lover was Count de Gish. I will not get into details, Monsieur. I killed him, on the day I found out. I felt no remorse about this. They were laughing loudly tickling each other in our family bed bare and shameless. I was the last to know about it in my house.

In one day I became both a cuckold and a murderer because de Gish was well known for his unability to use any weapon decently. He died laughing at me. "I am not the first nor shall I be the last one Viscount. Christine is bored to death of you and your piety." That's what he said but I didn't listen to him.

I should have given her divorce there and then, but I still believed she was mine and I didn't want to disappoint Father Paul going against the church so drastically.

My second duel frightened Christine and drove her away from me completely. She became silent, very silent and even Paul started to worry about her at some point. He advised her to spend some time in a monastery. She agreed and on the 21 of May Christine left. We didn't say a word to each other. I locked myself in my work and my prays and didn't realize almost 7 weeks had past in separation. I missed her now and then but mostly my mind was full of thoughts mirroring my confusion. According to Father Paul I did everything right and had become an admirable son of God purified from my previous sins. It was hard for me to believe it when there was a dead man on my conscience and my marriage was destroyed beyond repair. I was keeping those 9 victims from the opera away from my mind unless I went mad of guilt and horror. All my life I had been a quiet and non aggressive man, strongly despising bloodshed and brutality and now I had so many lives taken on my account. It was killing me to think about them. They will haunt me till the very end, Monsieur. Forgive me, but I used to think of you and the way you were handling such sins. I thought if you were able to live unbothered maybe I would learn how too. But as you can see I couldn't do it. People are different and some simply break under such a weight.

Well, me staying alone proved to be even worse because I was constantly concentrated on my own sins. I began to eagerly expect Christine's arrival if only to have something else to think about.

She returned to us visibly changed and humble. She looked so beautiful in her simple dress and her pale face had that light in it again. That was the girl I used to know and adore. She seemed happy to see me too and we had a peaceful and touching summer. My love for her was growing slowly up and I was taking little steps back from religion to real life. It was hard. I was torn between my desire to please Christine and to stay faithful to our believes with Father Paul. I could see he didn't approve my allowances towards Christine and I just pretended I didn't understand his discomfort.

It was totally unbelievable for me when I heard the servants talk of a boy that had caught "milady's eye". I didn't want to hear any of this and I banished the gossip makers from my lands on the spot. I tried to behave trusting, and managed it until one night I woke up alone.

I found them in the most traditional place – the barn. She wanted me to find out, I am sure of it. They were sleeping after the committed sin and no nightmares were torturing them. I was at a loss of what to do so I simply stood there staring. I had never before seen Christine completely bare like this and I couldn't take my eyes off her. Such beauty and grace.

The man was more a boy. Looking at him I for the first time realized all her lovers were that much alike. My attention was drawn at the hand on her back. It was large and wide with strong square fingers. The memory of Christine talking about Tamerlane's hands invaded my mind and I made a whole comparison. It was so obvious that she was after tall, well build men with large hands and light brown hair. I can continue to list the similarities but the important thing was my wife was attracted to men which had little resemblance with myself. I cannot stop blaming myself because if I had gotten one more step further in my thoughts, I would have made the obvious conclusion that it was pointless to continue with this farce of a marriage. I should have let her go then and save her all the pain.

I felt helpless and angry. I took a thong and hit the boy. They jumped and tried to escape but I took Christine's arm and made her see all the beating I gave to her lover. At the end they both fainted at my feet and I was left there covered with blood and horrified of what I've done. I almost killed the boy and left him as pretty as you are now.

We locked Christine in her room and began to think of what to do. Father Paul was convinced she was obsessed by the devil and needed urgent measures in order to save her soul. It didn't take long to convince me and soon the monstrous decision was taken. She would be given a choice: either to submit to a severe mortification of the flesh or to enter a monastery for life. How I wish now, she had chosen the second.

Christine was deeply confused. She begged Father Paul to explain why all those things were happening to her. She was unable to understand her own lack of control.

I think she agreed to participate because she was deadly frightened that more people were going to get hurt if she did not. Christine chose the mortification and we began on the next day. I wanted to go through all of it with her but Father Paul forbid it. In his words it was not only a purification of the soul but also a punishment and I had to spared that for being the innocent one. I agreed too quickly for my shame. If I had been firmer in my resolve to follow her, he would have never gone so far with Christine. You see... what a hypocrite! Back then, when she was sick and I had to take the blame for 9 dead people he made me pray and starved me. 9 people, Monsieur! And poor Christine? For bedding 2 men he threw her in an empty cold room not much different from a prison cell and ordered for her head to be shaven. She was to wear a simple dress shirt with no stockings or shoes. Eating once a day with 5 hours of praying before and 5 hours after. Out loud, Monsieur. She lost her voice on the third day and I was afraid she would never be able to sing again. That was not enough. After the first several days he decided to add beans to one hour of her praying. She couldn't stop crying but she never refused or complained.

He added whipping with some tool that prevented scarring the flesh but was causing the same amount of pain if not more. God, he told me I should be beating her myself if I loved her and cared for her soul but I couldn't do it. I can see how close to pulling the trigger you are, Monsieur and I wont blame you for this. But you can not hate me as much as I hate myself I assure you. We are close to the dreadful end, Monsieur just a little more patience, I beg.

We continued with this … we did it for 3 months. And we stopped only because Christine turned out to be pregnant. Nobody knew before that and nobody would if not for an experienced nurse we had hired to check her health regularly. Christine was thin as a ghost and slow in every motion, because of her constant pain but otherwise seemed unchanged to me.

Immediately after her condition was confirmed Christine was brought back to her room and great care was taken of her. The sense of terror was everywhere in the house. We had tortured a pregnant woman which was a sin above all sins. That fact alone changed Father Paul a lot. He was no more confident and insisting. Fear and doubt replaced the holy fury from his eyes. We were asking one and the same question. Why did God allow us to do this? Why didn't he stop us somehow? Did He really want us to kill Christine in our attempts to help her?

She spent almost the entire pregnancy in bed. I was already prepared to claim the baby as mine although it was not possible to be true. The father was that stable boy I've beaten almost to dead. What humiliated me the most, was that they conceived the child from the first time while we had tried for months with no result. As if, the Lord had tried to warn me from the beginning.

The weeks before the childbirth were increasingly hard for Christine. The baby was moving and causing her to yell in pain. It was a true miracle he didn't bring a serious harm to her internal organs. The doctor was worried too and I begged him to stay constantly with us.

Her pain intensified a day before the end. The doctor could not give her anything for the pain because he was sure the childbirth was very close. The only words Christine was screaming in her agony were "God have mercy on my child." Again and again she said that, never asking anything for herself, only for the baby.

I was there till the very end trying to help her or the doctor. You can not imagine, what hell she went through, Monsieur. It is beyond me to describe the screams, the blood the yells from the doctor. Pure horror. When he began to come out, we realized how terribly disfigured the child was. I don't know how He did it, but it was God himself who blessed both the mather and the child, and they survived.

Christine lost her consciousness the moment she heard him cry. I was glad she did not see him in her state of total exhaustion because he was a horrible view to behold. The spine was twisted to the left, his left arm was smaller than the right and looked much weaker. His face was both normal and strange because the skull was bigger to the left. And he was a squint-eyed.

The doctor predicted Etienne would not last the night but I insisted on giving him the name Christine had chosen for her baby. I took him to Father Paul to get a blessing but the moment he saw the child, he fainted and I left him there.

She slept through the next two days. An experienced woman told me we should try to breastfeed the baby despite her being unconscious and it worked. The little cripple was hungry like a beast and crying loudly to show us his constant need. It was his cries, I think, that made Christine to wake up and begin to recover.

She loved the child dearly and she refused to let him out of her sight.

I on the other hand was seeing it as a constant reminder of my failure as a husband, as a lover, as everything. Naturally I went to see my friend to ask him for an advise. Waiting for the baby to die I was avoiding the matters of his parenthood and the birth papers were still unfilled.

It had been exactly 3 days from Etienne's birth when I finally entered Father Paul's room after I received no response to my knocks. He wasn't there so I searched for him at his favorite place in the garden – a quiet, secluded place, away from the more frequently used paths. He liked to read there during daytime.

I found my friend and teacher hanging from a tree, cold and dead. The sight of him shook the very foundation of my faith. The man had killed himself, the greatest sins of all after all his speeches and holiness. The note I found under a stone had only one sentence on it - "Give my belongings to the poor." There was no explanation but I didn't need one. I had seen the guilt in his eyes the past several months, I just didn't know it was that devastating.

By the time we buried him, I had began to see the events from the last two years in a different perspective. I am sorry to say this but his death was a real liberation for me. I wanted Christine back in my life and I wanted us to start over. But first, I had to get rid of the child. I couldn't stand the sight of him not only because he was so damnably ugly but because Christine was giving all her attention to him. All her love was for him while I was in desperate need of love.

I was nice and gentle to her, trying to get a little attention but she simply wasn't noticing me. All she was seeing was the baby. Christine never gave him to anyone else to hold or even to touch him. She appeared afraid of us, of harming her son. She was constantly singing to him and very often there were tears in her eyes.

The tension inside of me grew every day and eventually I snapped. I didn't know where it came from, but I accused her of having an affair with you and demanded the child should be taken to his father or put in an orphanage. She denied it, of course, and she begged me to give her a little more time with the baby. After much yelling and more accusations, I agreed to give her time until the child became two months old and left the room. Only then I realized what I have done, but there was no going back.

I stood away from Christine from then on, secretly praying for the child to die sooner. The doctor was final, that he would not live much longer. I knew I was doomed to burn in hell and I put aside all hypocrisies in my mind during my contact with Father Paul. I loved her and I didn't care she had slept with other men. I could make her forget them all, if only given a chance.

When said time came, I went to see her and convince her to put Etienne in the orphanage. I promised everything to her, everything she might ever want but she was firm. I lost my nerve again and began to shout at her words I didn't know I had in my mind. I humiliated her and hurt her and at the end even hit her. The helplessness was making me weak and evil. In my desperation to keep her mine, I gave her the final ultimatum – she was either ot abandon the child or leave with him, for good.

Christine didn't believe me at first. I remember that moment of silence after my voice died. She looked at me hoping I would say something and take the horrible words back. And I almost did, if not for my pride, which took the better of me. I stood there proud and silent waiting for her answer and when she voiced it, blind rage took over me. I shoved her out the front door and loudly forbid her to enter the house or any other property of mine. More, she was not to receive any help from any man who wanted to keep his place in my household.

I went inside convinced she would come to beg me to reconsider. I was already seeing myself as a generous and forgiving husband, who would even let her see her son once in a while. I waited and waited, but she didn't come back. Later, the servants told me, Christine had walked away from the house without a single glance back. It was the last time I saw her face."


	8. Chapter 8

8.

I had a thought of some unfinished business pressing in my skull and that was the only reason he was still alive. I didn't remember when I had taken the gun out of my pocket or when I had pointed it directly at the Viscount's head. My hand was hurting from the visible effort to restrain myself. The palm and most of the fingers I couldn't feel due to the tremendous grip on the handle. He needed to stay alive a little longer, but why? Why? My mind was denying me any coherent thought then.

The bottle was empty on the table next to his glass, but he wasn't drunk. I, on the other hand, was having my head spinning a little. Drinking on empty stomach has never been good for me.

I knew he was waiting for me to talk but no words were needed anymore. I had received my deal of horror stories for the rest of my life. I had come here to gather the facts but now I wished, I had lost myself on the way, somehow.

How can one undo the acceptance of an information? To roll time back? No. To forget? Not a damned way! Then how? How was I to return all this to its origin? For I knew what he had done. He had given it all to me. A piece of shit in a nice plate, served for diner. I could already see his face getting calmer and peaceful. That peace was not there at the beginning of the tale but now at its end, all signs of unmistakable relieve were showing through.

The end? But that was not the end. The end was buried in my grave, unmarked and unvisited by his mother who was too fragile to have it as her end. And I would be heavenly glad, to give it to him as his own. Quickly, I counted them in my mind.

"For a quiet and non blood-thirsty man you are having quite a lot on your account, Viscount. 12? Maybe I am a quiet and a calm man, after all."

He looked dully at me, obviously unable to comprehend the analogy I was making.

"Mine are 13, and it took my entire life to accomplish such an achievement. You, however did it in only 3 years. Impressive, really."

"Not impressive, Monsieur, soul-shattering."

He frowned a bit as it began to dawn on him. Slowly. A sick kind of joy was boiling in my guts. I was already tasting the poisonous sweetness of victory in my mouth. Two minutes, three, God damned!

"11, not 12. You can not fool me, I know exactly how many souls are haunting my nights."

I smiled, unable to contain myself any longer. The final blow will be delivered by me and I couldn't dream of a better revenge. He was close to the edge already. A tiny push would do. I strengthened my body and lifted a hand, ready to bend the first finger.

"Let us count them together, then. 1 on a duel, 1 made to commit suicide, 9 in the opera house, and..."

He threw the bottle to the ground and cried out in frustration.

"That's all! The boy in the barn survived. He was close, but he made it. God!"

I looked purposefully in his eyes, bending over the desk, afraid to miss the moment of his realization. There was fear there already. Fear of what I may say or see.

"But the young Etienne didn't survive."

He went dead pale and leaned back in his chair, away from me. I still held his eyes locked on mine, observing the newly added damage inside. With much force he averted his gaze to the wall and I knew this man was not one of my problems anymore. I was practically finished here, if not for the sadistic part of me, demanding I was to be as detailed in my story as he had been in his. A much smaller voice suggested I should do it like a man for once, and show some compassion to the broken human before me. Such a faint, insignificant voice.

The Viscount was agonizing.

"This … this isn't my fault! He was destined to die from the day he was born. I am not the only one to be blamed."

I sat back in my chair, enjoying the vision before me to no end. The pain is all yours, Monsieur.

"We all are destined to die one day, Viscount, but dieing out of hunger is a completely different story."

He sprang from the chair and I almost pulled the trigger. Damned man! He wanted to take my fun from me and made me kill him quickly. Not this time, no. Here in your home you will suffer like I suffered in mine. My sanity is broken but I see yours slipping into oblivion now and there is no other pleasure, measurable to this. I suffered from love. You, from unearthly stupidity. But this is not enough. You have yet to experience more pain for dirtying and consuming the soul of my Christine. She was mine and I gave her to you, only for you to suck the life out of her.

I stood up and approached the Viscount, who after the initial harsh pull was frozen on the spot, eyes closed, his back presented to me. I let my voice come to him, quiet but crystal clear.

"After you left her on her own, she didn't have means to buy food or to find shelter. She walked on foot, from here to Paris and it took her two months to accomplish a simple task like this. Why? I don't know why but the time she spent wandering on the roads was fatal for her son and slowly, very slowly and painfully he died of hunger."

He didn't respond to my words and I saw fit to continue.

"A little exercise on compassion, Monsieur. You do remember seeking it from me not so long ago, don't you? Have you ever been hungry in your life? Have you? No, I don't think so. I, on the other hand have quite an experience with starvation and with your generous permission I intend on giving you a glimpse on the matter. Sit!"

He dropped dead-like after my command. I could see him fighting to reject the truth in my words but it was pathetically weak and inevitably he looked back at me waiting to swallow the last portion of his self-made poison.

"Hunger is a tremendous source of power, Viscount. A starving man would kill with bare hands for a mouthful. A little story to help you create a full picture. During my time with the gypsies I was, let say it, underfed all the time. Somehow, a little dog got itself in my cage, once. It was a unique experience, Monsieur, for it could have easily run away behind the bars. It was a puppy dog and it stayed, there with me. We played for a while when I realized my "care-taker" was watching us play. I remember I got so scared he was going to take the dog away I lost my vision and almost fainted. But when I came back the puppy was still in my grasp.

For several days we played unbothered, cause it was raining heavily outside and no visitors were coming in the camp. I was feeding the puppy from my hand and never before in my life, I sware, never before I had felt such happiness. It was hungry as Hell but playful nevertheless.

Then he stopped the food. The first night I thought he had forgotten, it wasn't uncommon. My friend was licking my hands but there was nothing I could do, but to wait. We waited three more days and I began to fear the dog was going to run away. I yelled as strongly as I could and sang and yelled again. When he came in he only looked once at the animal and left. I saw nothing of him in the next couple of days. The puppy wasn't playful anymore, nor was I. We would lay for the duration of the day only moving to relieve ourselves at the other end of the cage. It tried to eat it once and I myself wasn't far from the thought.

How many days I resisted I don't know. He was coming in only to check if we were still alive. Afterwards, I found out he made a lot of money putting a bet on how long I would struggle. The dog didn't leave me, although I tried to throw it out of the tent several times. It was clear the animal was the reason for the severe starvation but still, I didn't understand what was expected from me.

Finally, time came when I began to mix the vision of my friend with one of a breathing piece of food. It was going to die soon but I couldn't wait anymore. I fought and fought but at the end it was either this or we would both perish. I didn't want to die, so I wrapped my trouser leg around the puppy's neck and strangled it. My friend passed peacefully away, giving me no fight at all. I ripped it open with my nails. It took some time, for the skin was resilient and I was weak as a rag-doll. All the time I was having sickness fits which made me even more tired. I eat it, holding my mouth to stop myself from vomiting yet several times it was unsuccessful so I had to eat it again. At first I thought I wasn't going for the skin but after a while it went down as well. Nothing was left of the puppy besides me, fed and bloody, all over. I was screaming in pain through my fingers for my stomach was literary killing me. And of horror of what I have done. Then, Monsieur I wished I had died with the puppy."

The look on his face was far beyond terror and he was gaping at me like a weak-minded bastard. I had no pity for him. All my pity and tears on the matter I had shed the weeks after I eat my little buddy. But the memory burdened me a new and I whispered tiredly.

"How do you like your punishment now, Viscount?"

The boy broke. He covered his face and gave out a mournful moan. The violent sobs began to shake him soon after. I looked away unable to move more, for the moment.

xxx

It was well after dawn when the Viscount came back from his personal hell. He gathered himself and for a moment I feared he was going to talk of our arranged duel. Quite simply I was in no shape of fighting anybody. It turned out I was only partly wrong.

"Monsieur, I... I apologize for wasting much of your time with my lack of control."

The fool was trembling like a leaf and barely standing on his feet. He strengthen up before the next.

"I am not going to fight you, Monsieur. I gave you my word, last night, but now I see there is nothing left of it anymore. You can kill me now if you want."

I have promised to Christine. Shaking my head no, I handed him the gun without hesitation – he was harmless. The boy placed it on the table and sat on its edge. He was thinking, the previous hardness returning on his face.

"How did she take it?"

"She doesn't know."

His eyes went wide with disbelieve.

I don't know why I told him. Partly because I just let it slip out of my mouth. I don't know but I explained the situation briefly while he was staring at me without a blink. The silence that followed was void of tension and soon I stood up to leave.

He followed hurriedly.

"Wait, please. We didn't settled our argument, Monsieur le Phantom. I have a solution which may be useful for all of us."

"Continue."

He looked at the papers on his desk touching several of them for a brief moment.

"Untill now, I thought I was prepared to end my life. In fact it was you I was waiting to meet before that. I wanted you to know the truth and not to put blame on Christine for anything. All her mistakes are mine and I take full responsibility in front of you and very soon, in front of God. Now I see, I have some business to finish. I will ask you for a little more time, till the end of that month to complete my work. After that I will find a way to end my life without committing a real suicide. Your word will be kept, I will find peace and Christine will think it a sad accident."

It took me less than a minute to see everything he was putting in his words. He was growing wiser, after all.

"I agree."

His face lit up a little, as he approached the door.

"Then, Monsieur, allow me to prepare some refreshments before you start the long voyage home. I took the liberty to pack Christine's belongings. May I hope you will be kind enough to deliver them to her? Please, its just one package."

He went away before I had time to say a word. Was I ready to accept food from the same hand who had starved the kid away? Yes, if that will give me strength to get back to Christine sooner. Honor and Starvation are creatures from two different worlds, they can not exist together. As my honor had gone down the drain so many years ago, I made myself comfortable in the stupid chair trying to guess what was he going to bring me for breakfast.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

After hastily throwing her baggage in the cave, I was running to meet Christine in the chapel. Despite my best efforts, I was two days late. The first day I've lost, taking the wrong road soon after leaving Paris and having to go back and to practically start again. The roads were neglected and I had found myself confused for the right direction on more than several occasions, and it had cost me time again. How I knew the roads had been better before, the Opera rat that I was? The people were complaining to one another about this too often, not to take a note. Hidden and quiet was always my favorite way of acquiring important information. Christine's belongings, weighting more than myself, were the reason I not only failed to compensate for the delay but added more hours to it. And now as the sun was setting, I was struggling to reach my destination a second earlier.

Destination or destiny? She was unconditionally mine, but what was I to do with her now? If she was so adamant to find men while living with the proper Viscount, there would be no stopping her here, in the Opera house. Although I could not imagine the sad and constantly crying woman to lure men to her bed with lustful smile on her lips. Will she expect me to want more? To do more? The fucking Viscount had starved her of physical affection and she had turned to the next available source. I would be an even greater disappointment. The all-knowing, all-powerful Opera Ghost can not satisfy a single woman. Eventually she will find the most potent one among them and will leave. Well, it won't be for the first time. During my ride back, I had come to a believable lie to finally get rid of Ethiene's shadow for good. She will accept it, and there will be nothing for her here, anymore. Christine will be free to find a new husband and I will be free to continue with my quiet, pointless existence. Back to my music, away from all those sobbing women and their constant tragedies.

Free, in my loneliness.

Her skin on my face. The second best experience after my music. How was that I, the man, was content with only burying my face in her tender back and she, the woman, needed to be fucked to the extend of horning her husband? Such an extraordinary girl she is.

The train of my thoughts was cut, as the walls of the chapel emerged in the distance. I slowed down to catch my breath and to listen to the environmental noises. Nothing out of the ordinary and there was only one person in the chamber of importance. That damnable Giry had left Christine alone there, after I had explicitly warned her not to!

But when I reached the place, it was Madam Giry herself, who was waiting for me inside. At least she was alone this time. I came in, and her eyes, full of trouble, instantly found mine. She raised her hands in the air.

"Monsieur! Thank God, you've made it here, save and sound. I was beginning to worry when..."

"Keep your voice down, Madam! Where is Christine? Speak quickly woman!"

She hesitated only a second, knowing how short my temper was when coming to Christine.

"Give me a minute, please, nothing is urgent now, thank God."

I stared at her silently, aware that the life of her daughter was on the tip of her tongue. My number 14 was yet to be claimed.

"She was doing quite well after the first two days of thousands of assurances that I will not contact the Viscount's family. Poor dear, she was so scared to cause you harm. I did what you wanted, and let her spent more time with my Meg and only after several hours she began to smile and to chatter about, you know, feminine matters. She was fine until the evening you were expected to return. Oh, Monsieur, Christine was so happy and impatient to come here. She had put those awful boy's clothes back and I couldn't persue her to change to a decent dress, at all!"

"Where is she now?"

"I am coming to it, Monsieur but you need to know, to understand. Christ almighty, we spent 5 hours here, waiting for you. It was past midnight when she finally gave up and came back to her room. I told her your own words about the possibility of being late and it seemed as if she had accepted them for the truthful facts that they were. She waited for you on the following day jumping at every sound, sure it was a sign from you. I had to repeat several times that things between us did not work that way. I had to know something was building up when she didn't mention the child once, that day."

"I am growing impatient, Madam!"

"Please! Christine...she became hysterical when you didn't appear on the second day. She was screaming that you had come back but you didn't want her with you anymore. Running to the cellars to seek you out, and we barely managed to drag her back with the help of two men. It was such a horrible view, Monsieur. Then, I sent for a doctor and he gave her something for the nerves. She slept well, but today Christine refused to get out of bed or to eat. I haven't realized her soul is so fragile. She used to be such a strong minded and happy girl."

Ah, yes she used to be different, when I was looking after her. Curse, that man!

"Before she met the Viscount."

The old woman sighed.

"I am afraid you are right."

"Is she drugged now?"

"No, no, no last time I checked she wasn't even asleep."

Tonight she will be sleeping with me. The smell of her skin...

"Madam, please, go and make her ready. Tell her I will be waiting here, as long as it's necessary, she need not rush."

She turned on her heels and we both left the chapel – Giry by the door, I through the wall.

xxx

I heard them long before they entered the room. Christine's voice was small and thin and Madam's sounded deep and soothing, trying to keep the nervous girl calm.

I let them go in first, just to be sure. At the sight of the empty chapel Christine's eyes and mouth opened simultaneously and I quickly revealed my presence.

She looked at my bare face unbelievably for a long moment before darting towards me and abruptly stopping only three, four steps later. Her face became blood red, a color I have never seen on her cheeks before. Her eyes were asking, and when I didn't answer she lowered her gaze and hid the face in her hands. The shame was talking. In my world, however, she had done nothing to be ashamed of.

"Christine."

My voice came out velvetlike, soft and quiet, the way it had always been with her before our paths had parted. Just like before, I wanted to show her through my voice, that I saw no fault in her, not now, never.

She looked up at me with those eyes full with remorse, and my words were lost completely. I went to Madam Giry to pick her bag, before heading towards the hidden door. Passing by Christine, I took her hand and led her out of the chapel and towards my home.

xxx

Christine kept quiet, yet I didn't miss the sharp turns of her head every time we changed direction. The woman was trying to memorize the road, frowning deeply in her determination. There was no harm in such a mental exercise, and I let her do it without a comment. Funny, despite her focus being elsewhere, the small hand was clutching mine with a never faltering intensity - as if, I was going to abandon her in the tunnels.

Madam's words came back to me. Christine had really been afraid of me taking my leave and not coming back for her. If she had been happy to see me two days ago, why wasn't she happy now? Was it possible only two days of insecurity to revert her back to her mournful state? Yes, unfortunately. And now I will have to bring her the news about her son. If only... No, it was my inability to predict obstacles like roads and luggage, which was to be blamed for this. I have assumed, quite naively, that a map and a strong horse will be all I will need in the outside world. My pride, on top of it, didn't do me a favor either. Why do I still have that urge to prove something to the old witch? To prove her wrong? To make her see, I wasn't less than a Viscount? Ah, yes.

Glancing at my silent companion I found her mood gone from bad to worse. Too many turns and tunnels for your little head, my dear, are they not? Yet, it was not a time for mockery and I bit my tongue still. She needs solutions, hellish freak of you, and now. I cleared my throat to capture her attention and received a quick, sad, tired glance before she looked away again. More shame, than fear, I hoped.

"I will make you a map, Christine. You must be capable of getting out of this hole by yourself."

I was rewarded with a brief spark in her eyes before they became suspicious somehow.

"And in?"

"In?"

"That map? It will show me how to get out, and how to go back in? Correct, Angel ?"

She was holding me with both her hands now, and her grasp was far from gentle.

"Correct, Christine. May we proceed now?"

"Oh, I didn't mean. I am sorry."

After that, she appeared much more at ease, and we made it to the cave without other interruptions. The girl had once more secluded herself in her thoughts but this changed drastically when she came upon the package. I could see the questions bubbling in her mind and to cut it short, I took the lead.

"Your Viscount is alive and well. We talked, came to an agreement and parted without a single droplet of blood from both sides. This, I believe contains your personal belongings. Are you glad?"

"Am I... Raoul is fine? You are unharmed? Oh, God! Can it be? Really? Tell me … tell me again! God bless you!"

She was glad and more, if my eyes were to be trusted. And suddenly I had the overwhelming urge to wave my tail happily. I could make things right for her if only for a second. I could make much more but she won't stay long enough. Now, I was going to sever the last string. Christine was still looking at me expecting confirmation of the good news.

"There is one other matter Christine. About the child."

In a fraction of a second her face turned from delighted to horror- filled and I cursed to Hell the Viscount and Giry for making me do this.

"Is he... is... no! Please, no! NO!"

She surprised me, throwing herself at me, grabbing blindly at my clothing to keep close. May be she was prepared for the truth, after all. If I just kept my mouth shut long enough...

I couldn't do that. Not after seeing her happy just a minute ago. Her face was different and much more pleasant to the eye. That was how I liked her, not an all-time grieving wreck. I must have it again. I patted her back and pulled her away from me.

"You assume too fast, for your own good, child. Your baby is unharmed or at least he was, the last time I checked."

"But you said?"

"I said I had something to tell you, nothing more."

She regulated her breathing at last.

"Tell me, then?"

"Do you remember, Christine, what I told you about the fair fight I was going to propose to your husband?"

"Yes, and I begged you not to do this."

"I considered your words of warning seriously, and took some precautions before I made my leave. The first, was the letter I gave to you, and which I will expect to have back... Not that very second, if you please!"

"I am sorry, Angel. Please continue."

"Secondly, I wrote to that family and warned them, they should prepare to abandon Paris if no note should come from me in a week time. They were provided with everything needed to ensure their quick departure. Can you understand, Christine? If I had died, there would have been nothing between him and you but the child. Can you see my point. I wanted him out of harm's reach."

She was quiet for the moment, wrinkling some garment in her hands absentmindedly.

"You were late."

"Yes."

Christine looked around the cave, avoiding me. Her voice came out flat, unfamiliar.

"Do you know where they went?"

"No."

She took a deep shaky breath in and let a heavy sigh out, before walking away from me. The girl tried one last time, and her sorrow almost broke my resolve.

"Can you find them?"

Can I find an imaginary family living in a made up house somewhere in the world? Sure. Will I? Absolutely not.

"It is close to impossible to accomplish such a task. I am not a traveller, as you know."

"I know."

She had knelt beside the package and her unwilling fingers were trying to undo the knots in vain. I did it for her and left the room to take a look around. I didn't dare ask the only question important to me: will she ever forgive me for being late? One thing I was sure about, I was definitely going to sleep alone tonight. It wasn't in my nature to press her in a time like this. I checked all my traps and alarms and everything was the way I had left it a week ago. No trespassers ment no trouble for now.

Despite my reluctance, I couldn't leave her alone for long but when I returned I was greeted with a surprise. Christine had made us a dinner from my supplies but there was something more, something I haven't seen before, and I went there to make a quick inspection. A little cake maybe?

"I made this for you in Madam's kitchen. Meg helped me with the nuts and the cream. "

I turned sharply around. Christ, she startled me this time. I was just about to put a finger in the cake to taste it but thankfully couldn't decide which part to taste first. She looked down and continued.

"When you didn't show that night, I gave most of the cake to Meg. It's... I was afraid it will get spoiled by the time you arrive. I had no idea sweets can last that long."

Neither did I.

"For me."

"A welcome home cake. Don't you know that?"

I shook my head while looking at her art with more attention. For me? She was lying. It was probably some leftover from their meal, after all there were only around two pieces present. I reached for it again.

"Wait! What? I will serve the dessert after the meal, not before."

Up there, perhaps she was right, but down here, I was the law.

"If this is really for me, then I can do with it, as I please."

I've said something wrong again, for her face became confused, before she opened her mouth to answer.

"Of course, you can. I was just thinking we will taste it together after dinner, that's all. Meg liked it, by the way."

It was not a leftover, then. The cake looked funny but smelled wonderfully to my hungry senses. If I send her to bed now, I can have a large piece for myself at once. Brilliant, Maestro!

I was actually opening my mouth to voice my will, when the whole situation finally sunk into my frozen dog-ass of a brain. Christine had made a real meal for us, and she had been waiting for me to return, so we can eat together. The kind child had made me that "come home" cake with her own hands, and all I could think of was, how to get rid of her, to eat it unbothered. But she made it for me! The cake is mine! Well, the music is yours too and have you ever regretted sharing music with Christine? Hm, silly boy? Be a man, now, and share that cake with the girl. Maybe she will cook for you again, if you are nice. A nice son of the Devil? Absurd.

I took a seat at the improvised table and Christine quickly followed suit. Whatever she was really thinking, was well hidden behind her calm face, but I was certain she had not got over the lose of her child so quickly.

"It isn't much but you don't have a stove here. That's all I managed."

She tried to serve me quite clumsily, so I took the cutlery and waved her to sit back. We tended to ourselves which was how I prefered it.

The meal was fine, and more than enough for a really hungry man, but we were yet to taste the cake. I could not stop myself from gaining a little revenge on Christine for making me wait.

"That was wonderful, my dear, and quite satisfying. Maybe we should leave the cake for tomorrow?"

She gave me a disappointed look, which quickly changed to a suspicious one when she spotted my raised eyebrows. This time I gave her the knife and left her fight with her culinary offspring alone. Honestly, she managed quite well, and soon we both had a nice sized piece, in our plates.

It was good, very, very good. Sweet and creamy, melting in my mouth. Mine finished all too soon and I looked across the table to examine Christine's situation.

She was looking at me, her piece almost complete with only a bite or two taken. Her head was resting on her arm and she was smiling shyly in my direction. She handed me her plate.

"Will you help? It is a little too sweet for me."

I snatched it from her hand and it disappeared as quickly as the first one. How lucky of me that Christine didn't...

I looked again at her. The smile had grown significantly wider and her eyes were hiding a hint of amusement. I instantly became uneasy.

"You lied. Why?"

"Oh Angel, does it really matter? I am so glad you enjoyed it, I should have saved more."

"I don't understand, Christine. Did you like it or not!"

"Don't get angry now, over ..."

"Answer me, Christine!"

Her smile vanished and she sighed softly.

"It was wonderful."

"Then, why did you give it to me?"

She stood up and gathered the plates, a sad shadow of a smile on her lips.

"Your face. I've never seen you so delighted before and I tried to prolong it a bit. Don't yell anymore, please."

She went to clean the dishes and I was left to sit there like a damnable dick-head. It was helpless. Besides from sparing her Viscount's life, I have done nothing right, since the moment she had returned here. She was displeased again and I was infuriated by the whole damnable situation. I have not asked for a cake, have I? Or for a dinner. I have not asked her to give me her piece at all. No! And I'll be damned before I take a single bite from another cake, ever! Hell! I was mad at a piece of food, so mad I was ready to break and throw and shout at the very stone my cave was made of. That was it. Finally, I was loosing my mind for real. The blasting headache only indicated how far inside my fury I had reached this time, and it made me clutch my face with both hands, bending low until I touched my knees and stilled.

God, how awfully badly I wanted to let go. To make one unforgettable performance to Christine, to have her run head over heels from here. Just once, I needed to do this, just once. Let go! Unleash the ultimate desire to destroy, and banish her again from your life. You don't even have to burn an entire opera now. Burn this place! Burn yourself, you fucking freak! Do it, if you have any sence of reality left. Unwanted, unneeded, useless and a total lose of food and air. End it now. Now!

Hold it there, monster. A monster you are, and her only protection in this world. She can find another, better one! She did, didn't she? You let her choose and what was the outcome of it all – sorrow, pain, desperation. Roses and beauty. She will be careful this time, she knows. Nothing! She knows nothing of the world. Not like I do. She will find out and break and die and the beauty of the world will be gone. Hate and noise everywhere. She must and she will be protected and above all, from you. The brilliant maestro of destruction. Hold back now, you fool. Put it under control and never, ever, dare you show your ugly face to her like this. Breathe, breathe, easy boy. That's right.

With a few more deep inhales I sat up, and rested my stiffened back against the wall. How have I gotten here from the chair? Damned ! I made a quick inspection of the cave but everything was in its place. A quiet sound came from the bed chamber and I put my shaky legs in use.

Upon entering the room I heard the rustling of the blankets and saw her small figure, curled in the middle of the bed. She appeared calm and maybe she wasn't that mad at me after all. Should I ask for a permission to use my own bed? No time to ask, though.

"Are you coming, Angel?"

It came out so small, I thought I was imagining her voice.

"Christine?"

She moved aside and stood up next to the bed. Will she ask me to do it now?

"I know, I should have asked you first, but ..."

"About what?"

She clutched to her nightgown pulling it away from her body a little.

"About lying in your bed."

My bed?A nightgown? What the fuck?

"I thought we had come to an agreement about the bed."

"Yes, but now you know."

"Speak clearly, Christine."

"Raoul told you that I am a loose woman."

The words hit me low, and annoyed me to no end. Such an ignorance!

"Do you think yourself one?"

"I feel dirty, Angel. I feel so ashamed but at times I stop feeling anything at all. It always happened in those moments, so quickly and when I would come back to my senses I would be in some man's arms. I was so scared of this. I didn't want this, believe me. Somebody always got hurt because of me and even then, I couldn't stop myself. Why, Angel? Raoul said I was punished for my sins, but what kind of punishment would make you even more sinful? There was a lesson God send me, but I was too stupid to realize what he was telling me. At the end he had to use my son to tell me how disappointed he was of me. "

My broken, little angel...

"Get back to bed, Christine, and take that off."


	10. Chapter 10

10.

A beautiful young woman with curly brown hair and … No brown, blond! Yes, a pretty young girl lying on her back, her hair everywhere on the pillow. Yes! She is calling for me, smiling at me... really sweetly... and... and she is moving her legs apart. Yes, oh God! Her skin smells of soap and flowers and she is spreading her legs even more as I reach the bed, her smile widens. She wants me, really really wants me. She takes my dick and fondles it... and again... and …. and...

Bloody Hell, it was not working! That one used to get me up and hard for sure before. Not any more, obviously. Not this, neither the previous two I've tried. Crap!

How many minutes I've lost trying to get hard while pretending I was bathing, I couldn't tell but the lack of sensitivity in the feet told me to get out from under the water. Ice cold was gripping my guts at the thought of embarrassing myself that way in front of Christine. She would laugh and leave and tell the Giry's and...

Suddenly all I wanted was to run and far away. I couldn't face her like this. I was beginning to hear her giggle already and it was not going out of my head. Laughing and pointing a finger at me, this time much lower than my face. No way, I was going out of here. Not a damned way! I must try again, and again. It will work, I will make it work! In her mouth...

Gripping with the totally chilled hand only resulted in my balls contracting and retreating further in, and I let it go. Traitors! What was happening to my body recently? Instead of me, governing and directing the rotting flesh, it was ignoring my every command. I showed my teeth in silent vow looking down at the dangling piece of meat and grabbed it again with a much denied desperation. Eyes closed, I rubbed and rubbed with absolutely no success.

What now? She had called for me several times, so my time was up. I should have left her up that night. To have more time for a plan or something. Anything! Too late and now she would know I had a ticker instead of a member. I wished I had choked on the bloody cake earlier. I could not say I was too tired for this, what kind of man would she think me be! May be I could lie behind her again? No, the instant we come that close she would know. She would laugh. Ah, God!

"Angel? Can you hear me?"

Holy, holy heaven!

I took the towel and used my time to brush the body thoroughly, not surprized to sense the shaking of my hands. It took only a minute and finally I came out, wrapping it around my hips quite untypically. I had a noise in my ears indicating a headache was on its way.

She was sitting in the bed. Naked! Does she not have any sense of decency? No if I was to judge by the covers around her waist which were doing anything but their job to cover her … her parts. Now she would ask ... now ... Hell, such a humiliation and for what, to see her gone again.

Christine was waiting for me to draw near, but I couldn't, and the silence stretched. All candles gone, she could only assume where I stood, and yet her eyes were fixed straight on my face. True to my prediction they grew more disappointed with every passing minute and summoning all of my will power at once, I took the two steps and got under the covers. She wasn't laughing yet.

The girl lowered herself down, and I could already see the disaster in her movement. Christine came closer and pressed herself to me...

I had only an instant to feel how terribly hot her skin was, before she pulled harshly away. Hell, she was fast. And now she was really laughing, her body shaking even if there was no sound to be heard. A feeling, I could not describe grabbed at my guts and twisted hard. The most pitiful creature on earth, was ten times better than me that night. She was laughing while I was dying of shame and indignity. Fighting the urge to run I gritted through my teeth.

"Stop it, Christine."

She went on shaking from hidden laughter and my blood boiled up in answering roar. How dared she!

"Stop now!"

She moved further away from me. Her whisper was barely audible.

"I can't. Sorry! How could you live like that all that time?"

She thought I had always been flaccid? That bloody snake of a woman.

"It's none of your concern."

"Fine, fine but... but I can't use it in such a state."

Couldn't she just shut up. Just... just...

"Would you mind if I use Meg's? She said I was welcome anytime I need to. Angel?"

What?!

I should be blushing now if I only knew how to. A well-mannered woman to talk so freely of such things in front of a man? There was something in that cake and I was definitely dreaming. Christ, let it be a dream. She was keen on replacing me with a hysteria medical device? This was not real! This was not happening! I had do it, this very instant. Stand! Please! PLEASE!

"Angel? Only once a week?"

I pushed away the petrifying stillness of my brain and tried to focus. Maybe her body would do the trick? I let my hand find her waist and dragged her back until she was fully pressed against me. I lowered my face to her neck and...the laughter began anew. My hands gripped her tightly and she gave a quiet yelp of pain.

But it stopped.

Good.

I began to rub against her butt while the giggle returned even more prominent.

"I said, stop it woman!"

"I am trying, really!"

"Try harder."

"Please, your touch is freezing. I can't control it."

I halted my movement completely blanked.

Freezing. Cold.

Tick – tack, tick – tack.

She was shivering from the cold, not laughing, you fool. You bastard...

A tiny quick touch at my groins made me jerk back.

"Sorry, I didn't mean... but... sorry... I... don't get me wrong but... would you remove that wet towel. It's so cold here, already... and wet. Oh God, please don't think less of me now."

I stood up quickly, cursing silently my overly panicked brain. I really am a nasty creature from Hell to assume she could be talking of such matters. Damned stupidity! A dry towel replaced the wet one, and I used it, to rub some heat in my skin. Just to be sure.

"You were talking about Madam Giry's bathroom, early."

"What? Yes, but if you find this too inappropriate..."

"No, of course not. Do as you wish, Christine."

"You do not object? Really?"

"I do not."

She sat up quietly for a moment as if searching for something in the darkness, before lying back down, and staring at me again. It was time to join her in.

The moment my hand felt the bed sheets, I realized exactly how wet and cold I must have been – they were damp and chilly to the touch. How annoyingly stupid.

"We must change the sheets."

From her side, Christine reached out and dragged her palm over the wet place. Her fingers met mine, grabbing and pulling them back towards herself.

"I think we can safely use the other half of the bed, tonight. Please, I am too tired to change them right now. Please?"

I stepped over the spot and got under the covers, only to realize, I had forgotten to put the new towel on. Damn! This time she was the one pressing against me and for a moment I thought I could simply surrender to exhaustion and drift away.

Until she opened her blasted mouth once more.

"Do you want to touch me? Like the night before you left? If you don't want..."

I suppressed a sigh and moved her hair out of the way as her neck arched towards me, both innocently and devilishly seductive. She was hot under my lips, and her little twitches showed me I haven't warmed myself up sufficiently. As my kisses began to grow in number, she calmed visibly down at the cost of several deep, slow sighs. Try as I may, I couldn't get myself to enjoy the closeness of her beautiful body. Too focused on what was to come, I methodically covered every inch, I could reach, with distracted kisses, while thinking of how to proceed next. Well, tonight I would need more than her shoulder in order to satisfy us both. Memories of a long forsaken time flooded my mind in waves and I selected those, in which her close proximity had led me to a physical arousal. Before, I had felt uncomfortable of those moments of uncontrollable desire. Now I embraced them freely, as my only hope to prove myself as a man.

Like on that first night, Christine palmed my face quite unexpectedly. Unlike then however, I used this to slowly turn her towards myself. She came willingly, reaching with both hands for my face. I never stopped kissing, coming down her arm until the tips of her fingers landed again on my left cheek. Any other time I would have been stunned by the lightness of her touch on the much sensitive place, but then I could only think of a way out of this trap. She wanted to be touched and the main "finger" a man should use for that kind of touch was in no condition to perform.

What next?

I should continue to kiss and caress the front part of her body, but there were so many places considered sacred to women, I didn't know how to avoid them. As strange as it may sound, I still feared rejection even in that fucked up situation of ours. I wished for her to make me stop, yet I didn't want to be the reason behind her decision.

She kept silent and I went for the tummy as the safest option. Afraid to touch her breasts, I centered myself over Christine, landing somehow between her legs. Well, this should be exciting, right? All her legs and groin close to my mouth should be making me happy and wanting?

Perhaps, I should give it some more time. More kisses followed, and I realized that here, the skin was even softer than on her back. Half-lying on top of her I freed one hand to explore the delicate tissue, circling around her button and going up a little.

Both her hands got in my hair simultaneously and the slow massage which started immediately after, managed to distract me for a while. Sometimes she would squeeze the hair for a moment before returning to follow some invisible lines on the back of my head. I let her lull me for some time, gently guiding my face to where she wanted to be kissed.

Until I realized there was still no response from my member. Soon she would get tired of the overture and would demand the main dish.

That thought and her question came at exactly the same moment, and I saw white as panic and fear flooded my mind in a blink of an eye.

"What is your real name,Angel?"

Harshly, I extended my arms to get as much space between us as possible. I opened my mouth to tell her this was none of her business but nothing came out. The ball of emotional snakes, biting randomly inside of my head, was confusing my line of thought to no end, leaving me unable to respond. A heavy acidic knot, formed somewhere in my stomach and began to move, burning its way upwards. Honestly, it hurt like Hell. I froze concentrating on mastering my mind. It was white behind my eyelids from the force I was using upon them to stay closed.

I couldn't take it. Not only I was incapable of making love to her, I was incapable of giving her the simplest thing a name was. I was unfit, again.

I had no name! No dignity! No love! No life! Nothing.

NOTHING!

I was falling literally apart, when Christine chose that same moment to reach out to me. Her unexpected hands on my shoulders made the muscles twitch and I collapsed on top of her, too shocked to even try to prevent it. If she had cried out in pain, I didn't hear it and the next moment I felt her arms around my head and neck pressing me hard against her body. It felt soft to my face, too soft indeed. Beyond the mind crises I was beginning to recover from, I came to realize my nose was lain on her breasts, the very place I was trying to avoid a mere minute ago.

I took a deep breath in, annoyed to acknowledge the acidic knot still moving up through my chest. No, I would think about the softness now. No more pain, tonight. She was stroking my hair again. Calm down. Only...

"Angel? Will you tell me about your mother? What was she like?"

The knot stopped and for a brief moment I felt under control and able to reply. Unfortunately, Christine managed to outstrip me again.

"What was her name?"

Well, that was easy.

"Ma..."

...

The acid exploded in my chest with a pain that had never existed before and my throat closed completely in agony. Unnatural blackness engulfed me, and I felt someone dragging me by the arm. Someone big and awfully strong.

There she was, standing in the doorway, getting smaller before my very eyes in the darkness. It was a confusion, I knew it. She didn't know it was me, whom he was pulling away. She would have never let it happen. All I needed was to call for her, and everything would be fine. So I shouted.

"Ma..."

Something was squeezing my neck and I couldn't finish it. She was far behind me, now but strangely, there was also a shape of a man just barely visible next to her. I was frightened and I didn't care who he was. Please, hear me, please. I don't want to go. I reached my hands back and tried again.

"..."

I was cut off, one more time. The fear grew faster after this and I began to struggle against my captor. My voice, my only way out, was breaking. She would come, I knew she would and I would be the best son ever! So many times I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out of it. Panting and close to tears I begged for her to come. I promised everything to her. I would never go without my mask. I would never talk again. I only had to call her, to make her see, it was me. He had deceived her, I knew it. I would be kind. Please, it is me. Can you not see? She became only a shape in the distance and I got really terrified. Now or never. Again, harder, harder. I inhaled and put my life in that shout.

"MAMAAAAAA..."

There! Once out of my mouth, there was no stopping me now.

"MAMA! MAAAMAAA! …"

I screamed for the Lord to hear.

Over and over for one little eternity. Every time at the top of my lungs. My whole body was hurting from the effort but I went on. And on.

And the miracle happened. The distance between us began to diminish and I was running towards her, smiling like a madman. Mama. She stretched her arms to meet me and then...

… then the shadow raised his hand and there...there was a whip in it!

No! Mama, no! Go away from him! It was him, who wanted me gone. Him who always whispered ugly words turning my mother against me. Jesus. He wanted me gone, not my poor mother. She loved me. I knew she did.

I was running like hell and the desperation grew as I could see how late I was. The first strike came down as we both cried out. I was failing to help her as the man with the perfect face was beating her repeatedly. She began to cry and I could see blood on her body.

I run and run and they were not coming closer anymore, not one bit. My voice was gone from screaming and now I was only growling like a wild dog. I was powerless to save her. Not strong enough, not fast enough, not smart enough. I continued to fail but didn't quit running. If I had been clever enough to make her see he wasn't right about me, that I was better, I could have saved her. But I didn't. Now he was beating her for wanting me back. Mama.

I kept running exhausted and overly terrified and he kept whipping her with the unfaltering smile on his damned pretty face. Every blow was slicing the air coming down on her, with that unforgettable sickening sound.

It was all my fault.

Mama, please don't hate me.

Please, mama...

I don't know when the tears began to flow like two rivers down my face. I was no longer a child, but a man and the woman, I was unable to reach was not my mother anymore.

It was all my fault.

The Viscount was beating my one and only love right before my eyes and I was powerless to stop him, even though I was racing like the wind. My Christine, how I failed you, dearest love. How could I let him do this to you? I could have killed him a thousand times over, and yet it was I who was to be blamed. I wasn't there for you. I burnt your future to the ground. I let him live. I let you go. Your baby... I let him torture you, I did. You were in pain because of me.

My fault, all of it.

I collapsed under the burden of that earth-sized guilt, and began to cry, out loud like a donkey. I didn't care about anything anymore.

Oh, Christine.

Oh, God.

Will there be no end to this...

…

Suddenly the vision disappeared, and I was back in my home, in my bed and Christine was holding me close to her heart. Quickly I returned her embrace, held her reassuringly for I could hear the distress in her voice. I wanted to apologize, to tell her she was safe and so many other things. But the tears couldn't stop and I wept and wept for a very long while.

xxx

After, God knows how much time, I rediscovered my ability to think. And quite naturally tried to withdraw from her being twice as heavy as she was. Christine didn't comply so I spoke.

"I am crushing you, Christine. Let me go."

She pressed me even harder and whispered.

"Never!"

But she couldn't resist my strength and slowly, I got above her to look her in the face.

There was a candle, burning in the chamber, somehow, and it showed me all her features with unfaltering sadistic clarity. She looked tortured. Again.

"Christine..."

She grabbed my face and I saw new tears on her overly damp cheeks.

"I will never leave you again. Do you understand? You are never going to be alone again, Angel. I promise you."

She smiled in her sob and began to pull me down again when I remembered why I had risen in the first place.

"I am heavy."

She smiled at my silly remark, and brushed her tears away.

"I know, I don't mind it at all."

But when I refused her a second time, Christine rolled to one side taking me down with her with no more words. Exhausted beyond reason, I could only lie and look at her, feeling dumb and totally empty. Such a sad beauty, my Christine was. She caressed my face for a while before dragging me back to her chest, where I buried my face in her warm breasts.

When she began to talk I realized she was crying again.

"Me and Etienne used to sleep like that. It was so peaceful and wonderful to have him quiet and happy. I think he was in pain from the day he was born, you know. Crying most of the time for nothing, poor tiny creature he was surely hurting. But at those moments, Angel he was calm and touching me like any other baby. My little baby boy."

Christine fell silent for a moment but I didn't want to get out of my divine sanctuary yet. Thankfully, soon there was a soft laugh or something coming from her side.

"He never woke me up, not once. Not even if hungry. Do you know what he did? Sweet, clever, boy. He would quietly make his way to the nearest nipple and feed himself without bothering me. Only when fed and bored he would bite me stronger and I would wake up."

Her voice was music and I moved a little, unhappy about the returned silence, then dared to put one hand on her naked back, lightly caressing the cool skin there . All of this felt too marvelous to complain about the topic chosen for her monolog. She was not upset anymore, just talkative. Christine fondled my head again.

"You can never feel it, but when your child is feeding from you, this is when you feel completely at peace. You realize how much a part of yourself he really is. Oh dear, why am I telling you all this? Men don't fancy such things and … I … I really don't know. Maybe because now I feel almost the same way with you."

This time I lifted my head to look at her.

"You mean, it can be better?"

She blushed lightly and moved her eyes away.

"I suppose. But please don't think..."

With all my heart I wanted to do something good for her right then. In the weak light of the lonely candle, I found one of her nipples pointing directly at me and in a second my mouth was filling with saliva. The bud looked lonely so I brought a finger to touch there and the sensation was unbelievably foreign, yet exciting. Pure silk it was, and once unleashed I found myself unable to suppress my desire to touch and touch again. Such tiny spot with so much softness to it. But that wasn't what she wanted. With one last glance at her half-closed lids I lay back down making myself comfortable next to the pinky bud.

"I won't bite, you have my word."

Her hand guiding me forward, was all I needed as a confirmation. I licked the nipple at first, before carefully closing my mouth around it. A heavenly pleasurable sensation washed, every dark thought away. I tried a slow suck in and felt her hand pressing me closer. Finally reassured, I opened my mouth more and let it deeper inside until it touched the palate. The nipple slowly changed form, turning harder and even more pleasant to be sucked at. I rubbed my tongue along its size, and Christine gave out a quiet sound of contentment. All my muscles started to get loose after this, and soon all I could sense was, how extremely tired and peaceful I was. Sucking slowly and deeply in, it was a balm on my raw, freshly skinned soul. Unbelievable.

When the call of Morpheus became irresistable, I gave Christine one final suck before letting go of her tender treasure. She was already asleep so I quietly pressed myself to her bosom once more, before allowing myself to relax completely.


End file.
